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flDarjor?: Cbe Circus Ctrl 


STORIES BY 


ALICE E. ALLEN 

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Rosemary . 

. $0.50 

Joe, the Circus Boy 

. 0.50 

Marjory, the Circus Girl , 

1.25 

The Martie Twins . 

1.25 



THE PAGE COMPANY 

53 Beacon Street, Boston, 

Mass. 




“ WHILE SHE DANCED SHE ALWAYS FORGOT 

else ” (.Sec page 85) 




EVERYTHING 


a 'smssmsmm uzzgs&s&z&s&z b 

| MARJORY: 

$j THE CIRCUS GIRL 

S 

1 

1 

$ 

1 

1 

1 

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^ ALICE E. ALLEN 

^ Jhithor of 

j&l< “Joe, the Circus Boy,” “The Martie Twins,” etc. 

m 


rk 

^ ILLUSTRATED 

S3 HARRIET O'BRIEN >- 

m 

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^ 

^ THE PAGE COMPANY 

EH BOSTON MDCCCCXVIII 




Copyright, 1918, by 
The Page Company 


/ 


All rights reserved 


i , ' 

First Impression, August, 1918 



NOV -8 iSi8 




©GI.A508083 


Contents 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I The Penny Bank i 

II Nancy Spindle n 

III William Gray Goes Visiting ... 23 

IV The County Fair 33 

V Lissy’s Thanksgiving Dinner ... 48 

VI Marjory Begins to See-Saw ... 64 

VII She Goes Down, Down, Down . . 79 

VIII Christmas Comes 100 

IX And She Comes Up, Up, Up Again . 114 
X Two Little Martha Washingtons . 127 
XI Marjory Begins School . . . .139 

XII April Weather 152 

XIII A Lost Penny 166 

XIV It Returns 181 

XV A Dime for the Penny Bank . .192 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

“ While she danced she always forgot every- 
thing else.” ( See page 85) . Frontispiece 

“ * I can’t seem to get along without babies ’ ” 16 

“ * I WANT TO GO HOME ’ ” . . . . .76 

“/Why, it’s the Marjory girl — it’s the Mar- 
jory girl!”’ 113 

“She sank down "in a little heap on the 

GRASS 167 

“ Mr. Brook was just getting out ” . . . • 186 



fll>avjor\>: tbe Ctrcus <3trl 


CHAPTER I 
THE PENNY BANK 

M elissa maud lighted the 

big lamp on the living-room 
table. She stirred the fire in 
the open stove. She raised all the shades. 

“It makes things so much brighter for 
Father when he comes home,” she said to 
herself. Then she went back into the 
kitchen to wash the dishes. 

Robert and Herbert were in the corner 
by the stove trying to read in their new 
readers. Peter was in the big rocker with 
two kittens in his lap. Both kittens were 
sound asleep and Peter wasn’t far from it 
1 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

himself. Beatrice was still in her high- 
chair at the table. The kitchen had been so 
warm and cheery they had eaten their sup- 
per there. 

If you had knocked at the door that cold 
rainy September night, and asked for Rob- 
ert, Herbert, Peter, Beatrice, or Melissa 
Maud, Melissa Maud, herself, would have 
looked surprised for a minute. For, in the 
little village of Brookside, Melissa Maud 
Penny and her little half-brothers and sister 
had funny short names which were used so 
much that almost no one remembered their 
long ones. Melissa Maud was Lissy. Rob- 
ert and Herbert were Bob and Bert. Peter 
was Pet. And baby Beatrice was Trixy. 
They were all the five little Pennys. And 
their home on the sandy hill just above the 
village was called The Penny Bank. 

It was a good-sized house. Ever since 
2 


THE PENNY BANK 

Lissy could remember, it had been about the 
color of the sandy road, with faded brown 
trimmings and blinds. Across the front 
was a porch partly shaded with vines. 
Over the front door, which was old, with 
quaint carving around and over it, was a 
big knocker. Lissy always kept the old 
knocker brightly polished. 

When you went into The Penny Bank 
you found yourself in a small, square hall, 
with doors on each side of it, and steep stairs 
running up from it to the second story. To 
the left of the hall was a big parlor with 
Father’s bedroom back of it. To the right, 
was a long, low living-room. Back of this 
were the dining-room and kitchen. Some- 
how, the Pennies liked the kitchen better 
than any other room in the house. Maybe 
because Lissy had to spend so much time 
there, and every one, from Father to Trixy, 
3 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


always wanted to be where Lissy was, if they 
possibly could. Up-stairs were plenty of 
bedrooms; big, middle-sized, and small. 
There was a yard all around the house, with 
a garden back of it, and an orchard back 
of that. 

Mother’s Uncle Solomon had left her the 
house. His will said that, when Mother 
died, it was to be Lissy’s. Mother had 
not lived long enough even to see the 
old house. But here, when she died, Father 
and John and little Lissy had come. 
Of course Lissy didn’t remember Mother at 
all, or coming to live in Uncle Solomon’s 
house, although she liked to think she did. 
She did remember a dear little step- 
mother, though, called Mamma, and a 
baby brother, called Bob. Shabby as it 
was, Lissy loved the quaint, rambling 
old home, and was glad it was large 


THE PENNY BANK 


enough to hold all the babies who had come 
to live in it. 

It was a big house to look after and a big 
family to bring up. Lissy wasn’t surprised, 
since she had tried it, that Mamma had been 
tired out and died when Trixy was a wee 
baby. That was two years ago. Ever 
since, Lissy had been the best little mother 
she could. Father had the yard and garden 
and orchard to look after. Besides, he car- 
ried the mail from Brookside up one of the 
long roads into the hills. He couldn’t be 
expected to look after babies and cook meals 
and do such things. He did all he could to 
help Lissy. And sometimes, too, a woman 
came from the village to do heavy work. 

The rain splashed against the windows. 
The wind blew in great gusts. But the 
kitchen was warm and bright with firelight 
and lamplight. Lissy was happy. School 
5 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

had just commenced in the village. Bob 
and Bert and Pet all went now — this had 
been Pet’s first day. Lissy had gone with 
him, taking Trixy in the old go-cart to see 
that he got started right. 

“He’s five years old to-day,” she told the 
new teacher proudly. “And the dearest 
baby. But do you think you can manage 
him, extra, with all these others? Maybe 
I’d better take him back, and keep him till 
spring. I’m so used to him.” 

“I can manage him,” the little teacher 
said, laughing. “Why don’t you come to 
school yourself, Melissa Maud?” 

“I did, of course, till Mamma died,” said 
Lissy. “But now? With four children? 
And the meals to get and the work to do? 
And clothes to mend? And stockings — you 
ought to see the boys’ stockings, Miss Dean. 
I’d have to bring them, and Trixy, too.” 

6 


THE PENNY BANK 

“It doesn’t look easy,” Miss Dean said. 
“But you’re only thirteen, Melissa Maud?” 

Lissy nodded. 

“You’d think I was sixteen, though, I 
guess,” she said. “Maybe I was born so old 
I can’t get much older. Anyway, not in 
three years. Then Trixy can begin, and, 
maybe, I’ll begin with her.” 

“Perhaps we can find a way before then,” 
said Miss Dean. 

Lissy thought it all over, as she splashed 
about in the dish-water. Trixy clattered 
gayly with a pie-tin and a spoon. Peter and 
the cats slept soundly. Bob and Bert read 
in funny high voices not a bit like their 
own. 

“She looks like a person who can do 
things,” Lissy thought, as she scalded the 
cream-pitcher, “if she is little and pink and 
pretty. Pier name ought to be Doris Dear, 
7 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

instead of Doris Dean. I wish John could 
see her.” 

When Lissy’s thoughts reached John they 
forgot even pretty Miss Doris. John was 
Lissy’s own brother — the only grown-up 
Penny boy He was a clerk in a big store in 
a far-off city. He was twenty-one, now. 
Sometimes he sent home suits for the boys, 
little caps and gowns for Trixy, and dresses 
and hats for Lissy. It was a good thing he 
did, Lissy thought. For Father’s money 
couldn’t much more than feed all of them 
and buy shoes and stockings and wood and 
coal — all the things you had to have. Poor 
Father — he looked old and tired, sometimes. 
Lissy wished he didn’t. 

She finished the dishes. She carried 
them away and set the table for breakfast. 
She took Trixy out of her high-chair to 
undress her. 


8 


THE PENNY BANK 


Then, out of the wind and rain, there 
came the loud clear “Honk! Honk!” of an 
automobile horn. Bob and Bert dropped 
their books — automobiles didn’t often climb 
the steep hill past The Penny Bank. They 
rushed to the window of the living-room. 
Lissy followed with Trixy. 

“It’s stopping here,” said Bert. 

“Something’s busted,” cried Bob. 

“Don’t say ‘busted,’ please, Bob,” began 
Lissy. Then the old knocker on the front 
door went “Rat-a-tat !” “Rat-a-tat !” “Rat- 
a-tat- tat!” and then began rat-a-tat-ting all 
over again, as if very eager and impatient 
fingers were using it. 

Lissy hurried Trixy back into the kitchen. 
The baby still in her arms, she took up her 
place beside the sleeping Pet. Pet was a 
beauty, and Lissy was sure he would be car- 
ried off some day. 


9 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


“Rat-a-tat, tat, tat!” said the knocker 
most emphatically. 

“Boys,” cried Lissy. “Come right here. 
You take Pet, Bob — cats and all — and hold 
tight to him every minute. Bert, you take 
Trixy. Whatever you do, don’t let her slip 
away. She’s slippy, you know. Stay right 
here in the kitchen while I go and find out 
what’s wanted.” 

Bob and Bert both wanted to go to the 
door. But one look at Lissy’s determined 
little face and figure was enough. Bert 
took Trixy. Bob squeezed into the old 
rocker and took what he could of Pet and 
the kittens into his lap. Lissy, shutting all 
doors back of her, went into the little square 
hall. There, the rapping sounded very 
loud. A dog barked wildly down by the 
road. Lissy unlocked the door. She 
opened it wide. 


10 


NANCY SPINDLE 


CHAPTER II 

NANCY SPINDLE 

T HE lights from the auto flared 
through the rain. On the porch 
Lissy made out a girl only a little 
taller than she was. She had a bright 
eager little face. 

“Oh, please,” she panted, “do let me come 
in long enough to catch my breath — some of 
it, anyhow. Get down, Fritz!” she gasped, 
as a big brown and white dog bounded up 
the steps, jumped at her, and tried to put his 
paws on her shoulder. “And do stop bark- 
ing.” 

“Come in,” cried Lissy eagerly. A bran- 
new little girl didn’t step into The Penny 
11 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


Bank very often. “Has there been an acci- 
dent?” 

“Just to the car,” said the girl. “Joe’s 
helping the chauffeur fix it. It won’t take 
long, he says. You can’t come in, Fritzie. 
You’re too wet and muddy.” 

“He could, if it wasn’t for the kittens,” 
said Lissy. She couldn’t bear to be inhos- 
pitable even to a dog. “Does he mind stay- 
ing outside very much, do you think?” 

“Fritz?” cried the girl. “Oh, no, he 
doesn’t care — he’s always wanting to go 
where he isn’t — that’s all. Go find Joe, 
Fritzie. Oh, but I’m glad to get out of that 
wind,” she added, as Lissy shut the door and 
led the way into The Penny Bank. 

“Let’s go right into the kitchen,” she said. 
“The fire’s almost out in here. It’s warmer 
there, and there’s coffee waiting for Father. 
I’ll give you some.” 


12 


NANCY SPINDLE 

The girl followed Lissy through the din- 
ing-room into the big bright kitchen, fra- 
grant with coffee. Bob was half in, half 
out of the rocker, one arm guarding Pet. 
Bert was holding as fast to Trixy as he 
could. 

“Is-sy!” cooed the baby, at sight of Lissy. 

“Oh, you lovely baby,” cried the stranger. 
“Come to N ancy — wait, I’m too wet.” The 
girl threw off her long coat and gloves, 
pushed back her veil, and held out her arms. 
To every one’s surprise, Trixy, who was a 
shy little person, went straight into them. 

“You darling!” cried the girl. “Nancy 
loves babies, and you know it, don’t you? 
My, but it’s good to get hold of a really- 
truly baby again. I didn’t know as I ever 
would!” She cuddled Trixy close and sat 
down on the old lounge in the corner by the 
stove. 

13 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


“I just love babies, you know,” she said 
again over Trixy’s head to Lissy. “And 
there’s a dear little boy,” she cried, as Pet, 
half awake, peeped up over the chair-arm 
at her. She reached out a hand to him. 
“I love both kinds — we’ve thirty boys and 
twenty-five girls now. Oh, but I’m home- 
sick for them.” 

“Thirty boys and twenty-five girls?” cried 
Bob. “She couldn’t, could she, Lissy?” he 
asked. 

Lissy knew Bob wasn’t polite. She shook 
her head at him. But she looked bewil- 
dered herself. 

The girl chuckled. 

“I feel so at home now that I’ve got this 
precious baby in my arms, I forgot that you 
don’t know me. I’m Nancy Spindle, and I 
live in the Bernard Home for Boys. I help 
care for all the babies there, but mostly for 
14 


NANCY SPINDLE 


the girls, now — in the Betty Blake Annex. 
That’s just for girl-babies.” 

“Did you just come ’way from New 
York?” cried Bob. 

“Oh, no,” said Nancy Spindle. By this 
time one of her arms was around Pet, who 
had climbed down from his chair to get a 
better view of the interesting stranger. 
“I’ve been visiting at Miss Jane Wren’s 
at Wayside. That isn’t very far from 
here.” 

“I’ve been to Wayside three times with 
Father,” said Bob. 

“So have I,” said Bert. “But there 
wasn’t anything there except the station.” 

Nancy Spindle laughed. 

“Did you see a great hill back of the sta- 
tion?” she asked. “Perched ’way up on top 
of it, on the side away from the station, is 
the Wren’s Nest— that’s Jane Wren’s home. 

15 


MARJORY; THE CIRCUS GIRL 

And that’s where I’ve been since last sum- 
mer.” 

All the time they had been talking, Lissy 
had been bustling about, setting the table 
and watching the coffee. 

“Let me take baby,” she said now. “You 
have some coffee and a doughnut. They’re 
fresh — I made them to-day.” 

“Oh, please let her stay right here in my 
lap,” said Nancy, as she sat down at the 
little table. “I can’t seem to get along with- 
out babies. Really, that’s how I happen to 
be here.” She set her teeth in a crisp 
sugary doughnut. There was a worried lit- 
tle frown in her forehead as she went on. 
“You see, Joe’s father — that’s Mr. Blake — 
has a friend here whose child needed a nurse 
or a companion or a something — I don’t 
know, yet, just what she did need. Mr. 
Blake thought it was just the place for me — 
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NANCY SPINDLE 


much better than staying any longer at the 
Bernard Home. So Joe brought me over 
this afternoon from Miss Wren’s. But 
when I saw the baby — she wasn’t a baby at 
all — just a great girl, and so spoiled. I just 
couldn’t stay — not even if Mr. and Mrs. 
Blake and Jane Wren and Joe and every- 
body in the whole world wanted me to. 
Could you live,” she appealed to Lissy, “in 
a place without any babies in it?” 

Lissy shook her head slowly. 

“I’m most sure I couldn’t,” she said so- 
berly. 

“And you’ve only two to begin with — 
think of me having fifty, and then not hav- 
ing one! I don’t see how any one could 
expect me to, do you?” 

Lissy shook her head again. 

“Well,” said Nancy after a minute, begin- 
ning another doughnut, “that’s all about me, 
17 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

I guess. Now, what about you — I feel as if 
I’d always known you, but I don’t even 
know your names.” 

“The boys are Bob and Bert,” said Lissy 
proudly. “They aren’t twins, but they 
might about as well have been. The little 
boy is Peter, after Father, but it’s too big 
for him yet, so he’s just Pet. Baby is Bea- 
trice after Mamma, but we call her Trixy. 
That’s all, except John, my big brother, 
who’s never home, and me — I’m Melissa 
Maud. We’re all Pennies and this old 
house is The Penny Bank.” 

“I shall call you Lissy,” said Nancy, 
“just as the boys do. I think this is the 
loveliest house — but do you take care of it, 
and everything?” 

“Most everything,” said Lissy, “since 
Mamma died. You see, there isn’t any one 
else, except Father, and he’s always busy.” 

18 


NANCY SPINDLE 


Nancy Spindle flashed a bright smile at 
her. Pet edged a step nearer, and Nancy 
lifted him into her lap, too. 

“Is that your dog?” cried Bob, coming 
back on one of many trips into the living- 
room. 

“No, that’s Fritz,” said Nancy. “He be- 
longs to Joe. But he’s always running 
away, and coming back again. He’s the 
funniest, brightest dog. He and Joe were 
both in a circus once, and Fritz has never 
forgotten his tricks.” 

“He tries to reach the knocker,” said Bob. 
“Honest-true, he does, Lissy.” 

“He’s reached it, I guess,” laughed 
Nancy, as a funny fumbling “Rat-a-tat- 
ting” sounded on the front door. “But 
don’t let him in,” she called after Bob, who 
ran back to the living-room. “Your pus- 
sies wouldn’t like him a bit.” 

19 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

“He’s knocking on the knocker!” cried 
Bob excitedly. And Bert and Pet and 
Lissy all ran to listen and look. 

“He stood on his hind feet and rattled it 
up and down with his paw,” said Lissy as 
they all came back into the kitchen, where 
Nancy rocked and cuddled Trixy. 

While the rest were still talking about the 
wonderful dog, Bert, the only quiet Penny, 
came close to Nancy. 

“Where did you say you lived, Nancy 
Spindle?” he asked eagerly. 

“In the Bernard Home for Boys in New 
York,” said Nancy. 

“I know about that,” said Bert. “It was 
in all the papers, last summer. Father read 
it. And there were pictures of the Home 
and everything. There was a Martha and 
a Martin Burt. Don’t you remember, 
Lissy?” 


20 


NANCY SPINDLE 


Lissy nodded. 

“Our Bert was so interested, because the 
boy had his name,” she said. 

“The Martie Twins,” cried Nancy. 
“They got lost, you know, or Martin did. 
I suppose everybody read about them. 
Well, they’re together at last, at Jane 
Wren’s — the happiest twins you ever saw. 
She’s adopted them both. That’s why I’ve 
been here so long. I just couldn’t leave 
them. I came last summer, you see, to help 
look up Martin. And Joe and I did find 
him, with Fritz to help. I’d almost 
brought them up, you know, in the Bernard 
Home. But they don’t need me now. It’s 
only babies that need Nancy Spindle, isn’t 
it, Trixy?” 

“Some one’s knocking again, Lissy,” cried 
Bob from the living-room. “And it isn’t 
Fritz, this time.” 


21 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

“It’s Joe, I suppose,” said Nancy, “to say 
the car’s ready.” She hugged Trixy. She 
reached for Pet and drew him again into her 
lap. “Oh, how I’d like them both right 
with me in the Bernard Home,” she said. 

“You can’t,” cried Bob in great alarm. 
“Don’t let her, Lissy, will you?” 

“She doesn’t mean she’s going to take 
them, Bob,” laughed Lissy. “Run to the 
door and bring Joe in for some coffee. Let 
the dog in, too; I can put the cats in the 
cellar.” 


22 


WILLIAM GRAY GOES VISITING 


CHAPTER III 

WILLIAM GRAY GOES VISITING 

B UT it wasn’t Joe who followed Bob 
back into the kitchen. It was a 
girl with a rain-coat over her head. 
When Lissy saw her she paused on her way 
to the cellar, both kittens in her arms. 

“She says she’s from Overbrook House,” 
cried Bob. “And she can’t be, can she, 
Lissy? ’Cause it’s shut up tight — and no- 
body could live there.” 

“Overbrook House hasn’t been open since 
we came here,” said Lissy. “You must 
mean some other place.” 

“No,” said the girl. “Overbrook’s the 
name of the place. I’m Annette, one of the 
maids from there. It isn’t closed any more. 
Mr. Brook has opened it. Half the serv- 
23 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


ants have come on from the New York 
house. Miss Marjory, Mrs. Brown, and I 
came to-day. And we’ve hunted and 
hunted in every box and bag and trunk, and 
we can’t find Miss Marjory’s Teddy Bear. 
And she can’t and won’t go to sleep without 
him. She just lies there and screams and 
cries something dreadful. She’ll make her- 
self ill, as she always does when she has 
such spells. So, I told Mrs. Brown I’d try 
to borrow one just for to-night. Would 
you lend us one, please?” 

Lissy was brimful of sympathy. 

“Why, of course I would,” she said, “if we 
only had one. But, you see, we haven’t.'' 

“No Teddy Bear?” The maid showed 
great surprise. “One of the workmen at 
Overbrook said there were five children in 
this house.” 

“Four,” corrected Lissy. She stood as 
24 


WILLIAM GRAY GOES VISITING 


straight and tall as she possibly could. 
“You can see for yourself that I’m quite 
grown up. But we haven’t a single Teddy 
Bear. Pet’s always needed one, and Trixy, 
too. But there’s not money enough for 
Teddy Bears after feeding all of us.” 

“No,” said the girl politely, but quite as 
if she didn’t see how any home with chil- 
dren in it could get along without at least 
one Teddy Bear. “Well, I may as well go 
back then. I telephoned the store — and 
there isn’t one there.” 

“I don’t believe there’s a Teddy Bear any- 
where in Brookside,” said Lissy. “But, 
please, wouldn’t William Gray do?” 

“William Gray?” cried the maid. 

“Our little gray cat,” said Lissy eagerly. 
She held up a sleepy fluff of a cat. “I 
wouldn’t dare let the little girl try Patrick 
White — this white one. Because, some- 
25 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

times, he does scratch. I don’t suppose he 
really means to hurt, but he does. But 
William Gray never does. He just purrs 
and purrs and you get so sleepy you can’t 
stay awake.” 

Eagerly, the maid reached to take Wil- 
liam Gray from Lissy’s hand. But before 
she could say anything, Nancy Spindle, red- 
cheeked and bright-eyed, still holding Trixy 
and with Pet clinging to her, sprang from 
her rocker. 

“Oh, why did you come here?” she cried. 
“Now, I suppose I’ve just got to go back 
and help look after that child. Oh, dear, 
I kept still all the time you were talking for 
fear I’d say I’d go. I knew if I opened my 
mouth I’d say it. And I don’t want to go a 
bit.” 

The maid, cuddling the little cat in her 
arms, stared at Nancy Spindle. 

26 


WILLIAM GRAY GOES VISITING 


“Are you the nurse who wouldn’t stay at 
Overbrook because Miss Marjory wasn’t a 
baby?” she asked. 

“Yes,” snapped Nancy. “Oh, you blessed 
Trixy, you needn’t jump — Nancy isn’t cross 
with you. It’s just herself she’s cross with. 
I’m sorry for you,” she added to the maid, 
“if you have to take care of that spoiled 
child. And I’ve just got to go back and see 
if there’s anything I can do, that’s all there 
is to it. Maybe I’d be spoiled if I’d always 
had somebody to do things for me, and give 
me whatever I wanted whether it was good 
for me or not.” 

Just here the two boys, who had left the 
kitchen unnoticed, came back, bringing with 
them a tall red-cheeked boy of sixteen or 
seventeen. And jumping and barking 
about him, was a big brown and white dog. 
At sight of this last visitor William Gray 
27 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


and Patrick White became two lively wind- 
mills of fur, growling in such terrible man- 
ner that Lissy and Annette were glad to drop 
them. They both jumped to the old lounge 
and drew up, side by side, to give battle to 
the enemy. 

“He won’t hurt them if they face him,” 
said the new boy. “Just watch him. Sit 
up, Fritzie, and say you’re sorry for fright- 
ening the plucky little pussies.” 

The big dog sat up meekly enough. He 
drooped his paws in a sorry fashion. But 
his eyes, bright and naughty, rolled eagerly 
in the direction of the two spit-balls on the 
lounge. 

Everybody laughed. Then Joe put Fritz 
through a number of his funny tricks. 

“But we must go, Nancy,” he said. “It’s 
quite a trip to Wayside over these roads.” 

“I’m — not — going,” announced Nancy. 

28 


WILLIAM GRAY GOES VISITING 

“You’ll have to take me straight back to 
Overbrook, Joe. It’s what your mother 
would call my duty. And it’s got to be 
done. Unhappy as I’ll be doing it, I’ll be 
still unhappier not doing it.” 

First of all, Lissy said, Joe must have 
coffee and doughnuts, and maybe Fritz 
would like a doughnut. And the boys must 
take some to the chauffeur. 

While they were gone, Nancy and the 
maid told Joe all about the trouble at Over- 
brook. 

“So just pack us all in the car,” said 
Nancy, “Annette and William Gray and me, 
and take us back as fast as ever you can, or 
my courage may give out.” 

Nancy kissed the sleepy Trixy and put 
her into Lissy’s arms. She hugged Pet. 
She put on her coat and veil. 

“I’m going to be your neighbor after all,” 
29 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


she said to Lissy, her sudden smile flashing 
out. “And that’s one thing to be glad 
about.” 

Back up the hill honked the car, leaving 
a wildly excited Penny Bank behind. It 
took some time to get the children quieted 
down in their beds — there were so many new 
things to talk about and wonder about. 
The Pennies were wild to think of Over- 
brook open after all these years — and a 
really truly little girl there. And Lissy was 
specially glad to think that Nancy Spindle 
would be so near. Lissy liked Nancy 
Spindle. 

At last the old house was still. Lissy 
crept down stairs to the kitchen. She made 
fresh coffee for Father. Then she sat down 
by the fire to wait for him. He came almost 
at once. While he drank his coffee, Lissy 
told him of what a strange evening it had 
30 


WILLIAM GRAY GOES VISITING 

been — just packed full of surprises. He 
remembered the story of the Martie Twins. 
He knew Miss Wren. He had heard of 
Joe’s father and mother. Mr. Blake was a 
great lawyer in New York, he said. He 
did not seem surprised when Lissy told him 
that Overbrook was open. 

Then Lissy told him how Patrick White 
was sleeping upstairs with Pet, because 
William Gray had gone to Overbrook. 

“The boys are going after him right after 
school to-morrow,” she said. 

Then Father spoke sternly. 

“You are none of you to go to Overbrook 
for the cat or for anything else,” he said, 
“so long as the Brook family is there. Do 
you understand, Melissa Maud?” 

Father never used the Pennys’ grown- 
up names, unless he was anxious or upset 
or angry. Lissy looked up at him, amazed. 

31 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

“I understand,” she said, “that we are not 
to go. But I don’t understand why, Fa- 
ther.” 

Lissy had been the little mother so long. 
And Father almost always did tell her rea- 
sons and such things. 

“Never mind why this time, Melissa 
Maud,” said Father. “You are not to go — 
that’s all!” 


32 


THE COUNTY FAIR 


CHAPTER IV 


c 


THE COUNTY FAIR 

[OME, Billy, Billy, Billy!” 

“Come, Billy, Billy, Billy!” 
“Come, Billy, Billy!” 

Lissy could hear the three voices coming 
nearer and nearer. Bob’s voice was ahead 
of the others’, with Bert’s quietly keeping 
up, and Pet’s trailing shrilly along behind, 
just as Pet, himself, always trailed along be- 
hind the other boys. In a minute, voices, 
boys, and all burst into the kitchen of The 
Penny Bank. 

“Where’s Billy?” cried the three to- 
gether. 

This was the minute Lissy had been 
33 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


dreading all day. But she met it with a 
gay little laugh. 

“William Gray must be having just the 
best time at Overbrook,” she said. “He 
hasn’t come home yet.” 

“All right — we’ll go for him,” said Bob. 

He was half way out of the door with 
Bert and Pet close behind him when Lissy 
caught his arm. 

“Father says we mustn’t any of us go 
there,” she said. 

“Mustn’t go there?” cried Bob. “I’d 
like to know why not, Lissy Penny? We 
go there most every day.” 

“I know,” said Lissy. “But the house is 
open now, you know, and some of the 
Brooks are there. And Father says we must 
not go.” 

“We’re just as good as Brooks,” said Bob 
stoutly, “if we are Pennies.” 

34 


THE COUNTY FAIR 

“Father said,” began Lissy — she didn’t 
quite understand herself. 

“Maybe Father doesn’t quite under- 
stand,” said Bert. He stuck his close- 
cropped head between Lissy and Bob. 
“We must have Billy. He and Pat must 
be on the Fair Ground at ten to-morrow, 
Lissy. The man told us so when we went 
for the entry-card.” Bert held out a white 
card. 

“Oh, let me see it,” cried Lissy. She was 
quite as much excited as the boys at the 
thought of entering the two kittens for a 
premium at the County Fair. “Maybe 
he’ll come yet,” she added hopefully, as she 
put the important card on the clock-shelf 
for safe keeping. “You all go out and 
watch for him. But we can’t — any of us — 
go to Overbrook. Father says so.” 

In the front yard the boys sat down in a 
35 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

disconsolate row and gazed up the hills in 
the direction of Overbrook House. 

“I’ll tell you what,” said Bob suddenly, 
“we’ll go just as far as we can toward Over- 
brook, but not put one foot on the land. 
Father couldn’t care for that. Then we’ll 
call and call as loud as we can, and maybe 
Billy will hear and come.” 

It seemed a small chance, but it was the 
best they had. As the three boys started 
slowly along up the hill, Patrick White un- 
curled himself from a ball under the lilac 
bush and went along, purring and rubbing 
against Pet’s fat little legs. 

Bob and Bert climbed a fence into the 
pasture. Pet squeezed under, and Patrick 
White went under without squeezing. 
Then they went on till they came to another 
fence. Pet started to get under this, but 
Bob stopped him. 


36 


THE COUNTY FAIR 


“Overbrook begins just the other side of 
that fence,” he said. “We’ll climb to the 
top rail and call.” 

Bob sprang to the top of the fence. Bert 
stood on the ground. Bob pulled and Bert 
boosted, and between them they got Pet to 
the top rail. Then Bert handed up Patrick 
White and climbed up himself. From this 
top rail you could see the tall hedge which 
went around three sides of the Overbrook 
gardens. 

“Come, Billy, Billy, Billy,” called Bob. 
He cupped his hands about his mouth to 
make the sound go farther. 

“Come, Billy, Billy, Billy,” called Bert. 

“Come, Billy, Billy,” piped Pet shrilly. 

“Me-ow!” said Patrick White sharply. 
He was half in, half out of Pet’s arms. Yet 
Pet held him as carefully as he could. 

The boys took turns calling till they were 

37 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


out of breath. Patrick White mewed 
straight on, paying no attention to turn. 

In the midst of one of the loudest calls, 
into one of the gates in the tall hedge, came 
a little girl. She was dressed in white. 
Her hair caught the sunlight and was al- 
most as yellow as the yellow leaves flitting 
down over her. In her arms she held a 
small gray wriggling cat. 

“Stop calling,” she cried, stamping her 
little foot. “He’ll run away. You can’t 
have him again. Billy is my cat 
now.” 

“He isn’t not!” cried Pet, forgetting how 
to talk and how to behave at the same min- 
ute. “Billy’s ours — and he’s going to the 
Fair.” 

“He isn’t,” cried the little girl. “Father 
has telephoned ’way from the city. And 
he’ll give you all the money you want for 
38 


THE COUNTY FAIR 


him. I never had a r eally live pet before — 
and I want him.” 

"We can’t sell Billy,” called Bob. It was 
hard to be polite when you had to shout so. 
But he did his best. “I’m very sorry. But 
we can’t spare him.” 

“We only lent him,” went on Bert at the 
top of his lungs, trying to help along, 
“ ’cause your Teddy Bear was lost.” 

“Daddy’s found Teddy in New York, and 
he’s going to bring him to me,” called the 
little girl. “But I don’t like him as well as 
I do Billy. Teddy can’t purr. Daddy’ll 
make you sell Billy. I must have him.” 

“I want my Billy,” wailed Pet. 

He quite forgot to hold fast to the top 
rail. The next minute over he went, com- 
ing right side up with care, as Pet always 
did, in the pasture. But Patrick White was 
so scared and upset that he was off like a 
39 


MARJORY; THE CIRCUS GIRL 

white streak across the pasture toward 
home, his tail as big as three tails should be. 

Maybe it was the sight of Patrick White 
that decided Billy. Anyway, at this minute 
he took matters into his own hands, or feet, 
rather. With a sudden twist and wriggle, 
he was out of the eager little arms, and off 
after Patrick White. In a minute he, too, 
had disappeared. 

“Bring him back!” screamed the little 
girl, stamping her foot again, and ready to 
cry. “He’s mine.” 

“He’s ours,” cried Bob. He and Bert 
rolled off the fence and ran across the pas- 
ture, with Pet stumbling and tumbling along 
between them. 

Looking back, the boys saw Nancy Spin- 
dle come into the gate in the hedge. She 
took the little girl’s hand and talked briskly 
and cheerily to her. But the little girl 
40 


THE COUNTY FAIR 

jumped up and down, and the boys could 
hear her screams and cries. 

Next morning the County Fair was in 
full swing. The popcorn man was there 
and the lemonade man and the peanut man 
and the taffy man. There were bobbing 
dolls to be shot at. There were bunches of 
balloons like big bouquets of flowers. Roost- 
ers crowed, cows lowed, horses neighed, 
dogs barked, bands played, the Ferris Wheel 
went up, up, up, and down, down, down, 
and the merry-go-round went round. 
There was a side-show with trained ani- 
mals, and a side-show where gypsies sang 
and danced and told fortunes. There was a 
man getting ready to go up in an air- 
ship. 

Everywhere, too, were crowds of people. 
All the town and all the county were there. 
School had closed. Miss Doris was there 
41 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

with so many children hanging to her that 
she might have had her picture taken as the 
little old woman who had so many children 
she didn’t know what to do. Lissy was 
there, too, with Trixy in her go-cart. Of 
course Bob and Bert and Pet were there. 
They stood in a row before a box with slats 
nailed across the opening in which sat Pat- 
rick White and William Gray. Both had 
been washed and combed and brushed. 
Patrick wore a blue bow, which had been 
Lissy’s best hair-ribbon. And Billy wore a 
pink one, which was to have been Trixy’s 
if ever she had hair enough to tie up. 
Neither cat looked very happy. Not even, 
when, later in the day, a beautiful blue first- 
premium card was tied to their box. 

Bob and Bert and Pet were all beside the 
box early the next morning. They had been 
giving the prize cats an unusually good 
42 


THE COUNTY FAIR 

breakfast They saw a tall man coming 
toward them. 

“What do you want for the gray cat?” he 
asked, smiling down at them. 

“You can’t not have him,” cried Pet. 
“Tell him he can’t not, Bobby.” 

“He isn’t for sale,” said Bob politely. 

“But it’s this way, my boy,” said the man. 
“I’m Mr. Brook — from Overbrook. And 
you’re Peter Penny’s son, I know. So, you 
see, we’re next-door neighbors. Well, my 
little girl Marjory has an idea that she can 
never be quite happy again unless she has 
this very kitten. She isn’t well and strong 
— I can’t bear to disappoint her. And no 
other kitten, she says, will do.” 

Bob looked at Bert. Bert looked at Bob. 
Both looked at Pet. 

“I’ll give you five dollars for him,” said 
Mr. Brook. He took out his bill-book. 
43 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

From it, he drew a crisp five-dollar bill. 

“Will you wait just a minute, please, Mr. 
Brook?” said Bob. 

Mr. Brook nodded, smiling. 

Bob and Bert and Pet had a sober little 
talk all by themselves. William Gray was 
dear to all of them. But the little Marjory 
girl wasn’t well and hadn’t any kitten and 
wanted him. And it was true that the little 
Pennies needed five dollars more than they 
did a gray cat. Five dollars and two dol- 
lars — their premium money — made seven 
dollars. And seven dollars would help 
some toward the shoes and things they all 
needed for winter. Or, maybe, they could 
spare it for a real Thanksgiving dinner — 
the kind Lissy had been hoping to have for 
two or three Thanksgivings. 

At last they went slowly back to the Mar- 
jory girl’s father. 


44 


THE COUNTY FAIR 

“We’ll sell him,” said Bob gravely, “for 
five dollars. But the Marjory girl will be 
good to him, won’t she? And, please, may 
he stay here with Patrick White till the 
Fair ends?” 

“Oh, yes,” said Mr. Brook. “Marjory 
must wait until then for him. But you may 
have the money now — which one of you has 
it?” 

“We’ll let Pet take it, please,” said Bob. 
“Billy was more his cat than ours. And 
he’ll give it to Lissy.” 

When Lissy heard about the sale 
of William Gray to Mr. Brook, she 
looked almost as if she was going to cry. 
But, instead, she sat right down on 
the floor and hugged Bob and Bert and 
Pet, and somehow found room for Trixy, 
too. 

“We’ll have the loveliest Thanksgiving 
45 


MARJORY; THE CIRCUS GIRL 

dinner!” she cried. “But don’t let’s tell 
Father — just surprise him.” 

The little Pennies did so love to help in 
Lissy’s surprises, and the little Marjory girl 
was going to be so happy with Billy, and 
they had Patrick White left and the pre- 
cious five dollars, so they couldn’t be very 
unhappy. They told William Gray the 
news. He didn’t seem to care whether he 
was to be a poor Penny cat or a rich Brook 
cat. But he said plainly that he would be 
glad to get out of his box and go home 
somewhere again. 

So that day went by and the next. And 
the last day of the Fair, in the afternoon, 
when everybody was going home and tents 
were coming down, and booths looked 
empty and forsaken, Thomas, a servant 
from Overbrook, came to the Penny boys, 
who were watching the merry-go-round 
46 


THE COUNTY FAIR 

come to pieces ready for its journey to the 
next fair. 

“Mr, Brook has sent for the gray cat,” 
he said. 

But when the man and Bob and Bert and 
Pet came up to the box, there behind the 
slats under the blue first-prize card, all alone 
in his blue bow, sat Patrick White. Wil- 
liam Gray was nowhere to be seen. 


47 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


CHAPTER V 

lissy’s thanksgiving dinner 

B OB was sure that William Gray 
had been in his box at noon. But 
neither of the boys had been there 
since, so no one knew just how long he had 
been gone. 

“He’s probably gone home,” said Bert. 
Thomas shook his head. 

“But you can run home and look,” he 
said, “while I look around the grounds. 
He was an unusually fine cat — that gray one 
was.” 

So Bob with the empty box, and Bert with 
Patrick White, ran home. Pet, tired out 
with so much Fair, had gone home early 
48 


LISSY’S THANKSGIVING DINNER 


with Trixy and Lissy and Doris Dean. 
They were all sitting out under the trees in 
the yard when the boys dashed up. 

“Billy here?” cried Bob, long before 
Lissy could hear what he said. When she 
did, she shook her head. 

“Of course not,” she said. “How could 
he get out of his box, Bobby?” 

“Well, he has, somehow,” cried Bob. 
Bert dropped Patrick White, much ruffled 
as to fur and feelings, in Lissy’s lap. Then 
they told all they knew about Billy. 

“He was in the box when we came home 
at two o’clock,” said Lissy, much excited. 
“Pet stopped to say good-by to him.” 

“Well, he wasn’t at five, when Thomas 
and Bert and I went to get him,” cried Bob. 
“And nobody knows where he is.” 

“He’ll come back,” said Miss Doris. 
“Cats always do.” 


49 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

“You don’t suppose the side-show people 
— the ones with the trained cats and mice — 
saw him?” asked Lissy anxiously. “He was 
such a dear, cunning little cat.” 

Miss Doris shook her head. 

“He’ll come back,” she said again. 

It was nearly dark when Thomas stopped 
at The Penny Bank on his way to Over- 
brook. He had hunted the Fair Ground 
up and down and had asked ever so many 
people. But no one had seen anything of a 
fluffy gray kitten. And when Thomas came 
to look carefully at the box, which Bob had 
dropped on the ground, he found that one 
of its slats had been cleverly taken out and 
slipped back in again. 

“Some one let him out,” he said. “I 
knew all the time he couldn’t get out by 
himself.” 

Everybody was talking excitedly about 
50 


USSY’S THANKSGIVING DINNER 


what might have happened to Billy, when 
down the road from Overbrook came the 
sound of a motor-horn. In a minute a 
large beautiful car drew up and stopped 
before The Penny Bank. The Marjory 
girl’s father sprang out. 

“William Gray’s lost-ed,” cried Pet be- 
fore any one else could say anything. 

The Marjory girl’s father didn’t seem to 
hear. He was very white and stern. 

“Is Marjory here?” he asked. 

“Marjory?” cried three little Pennies, 
while Pet stared and Miss Doris slowly 
shook her head. 

“We cannot find her at Overbrook,” said 
Mr. Brook. “I thought there was just a 
chance she might have come here — to find 
her kitten — or for some reason.” 

“No,” said Lissy slowly. “I’ve never 
seen her, Mr. Brook.” Mr. Brook 
51 


even 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


looked so grave and frightened, and the man 
in the car in the road looked so grave and 
frightened, that Lissy began to feel fright- 
ened herself. “But she’ll be sure to come 
right back,” she added hopefully. “The 
boys were always getting lost when they 
were little, but they always came back.” 

Mr. Brook looked down kindly at the 
little girl’s eager face. 

“Marjory has never been alone a minute 
in all her life,” he said. “I’ve always 
feared I’d lose her. She went to the Fair 
this afternoon with Mrs. Brown, the nurse 
who’s been with her ever since she was a 
baby. And the new little nurse, Nancy, 
went, too. Marjory had sent Nancy to buy 
three balloons. Mrs. Brown says she 
turned her head only a minute or two. 
But, when she looked back, the child wasn’t 
in the car — wasn’t in sight anywhere. 

52 


USSY’S THANKSGIVING DINNER 


There was a great crowd there — to see the 
aviator. Some one has taken her. Some 
one has taken my little girl.” 

Of course there was reason to fear that 
some one had taken the little girl with the 
hope of getting a large reward for her re- 
turn. Lissy didn’t see that, but Miss Doris 
did. She knew that was what Mr. Brook 
feared had happened. 

“How old is Marjory?” Miss Doris 
asked. 

“Eleven,” said Mr. Brook. “But she is 
very little and frail and easily frightened. 
Any one who cared to could have taken 
her.” 

“Oh, I don’t believe any one would be so 
wicked as that,” cried Lissy. She was so 
anxious to comfort Mr. Brook that she 
sprang to his side and caught one of his 
hands in both hers. “I think she just 
53 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

strayed away, maybe, and before long you’ll 
see her coming home.” 

Mr. Brook almost smiled at Lissy’s eager- 
ness. 

“Will you come with me, my dear,” he 
said, “and help me look for her? You 
know every one in Brookside, and I don’t.” 
“Now — in the car?” cried Lissy. 

“Yes.” 

“Oh, but the babies,” cried Lissy. “And 
Father’s supper — and everything.” 

“I’ll stay,” said Miss Doris promptly. 
“The boys will tell me how, and I’ll look 
after every single thing. You go with Mr. 
Brook, Lissy.” 

“It won’t take long to look through the 
town and the country-side,” said Mr. Brook, 
“then, if we don’t find her, I’ll bring you 
back.” 

So, Lissy, feeling very important, went 
54 


USSY’S THANKSGIVING DINNER 


with Mr. Brook in the big car up and down 
the streets of Brookside and up into the hills 
on all sides of the town. But nobody, any- 
where, had seen anything of a little lost yel- 
low-haired girl. 

When at last Lissy and Mr. Brook turned 
homeward the early darkness was com- 
ing. Mr. Brook looked so broken-hearted 
that again Lissy slipped a warm little hand 
into his cold one. 

“Maybe Marjory will be at home,” she 
cried, “all safe and waiting for you.” 

Before they reached The Penny Bank 
Lissy could see Father standing out under 
the trees. She sat up straight and waved 
her hand. She tried to think just what you 
said when you introduced two very nice peo- 
ple to each other. She wanted to say just 
the right thing. 

But, to Lissy’s surprise, when the car 
55 


MARJORY: THE C IRCUS GIRL 

drew up, before she had time to say any- 
thing, Mr. Brook spoke. 

“Good evening, Penny,” he said, quite as 
if he had known Father for years. 

“Good evening, Brook,” said Father. 
But his voice wasn’t the dear jolly voice 
Lissy loved so. It wasn’t pleasant at all as 
he added, “I’ll take my girl, if you don’t 
mind.” 

“Oh, Father,” cried Lissy, “he’s just lost 
his own little girl for a little while. And 
he wanted somebody. So he borrowed me. 
You don’t mind, do you, Father?” 

Father didn’t answer Lissy. He lifted 
her out of the car and held her close, as if 
she were still a very little Penny. But to 
the Marjory girl’s father, he said: “She’s 
mine — remember, Brook!” 

It was all very strange. But Lissy didn’t 
have much time to think about it, for all the 
56 


USSY’S THANKSGIVING DINNER 


days that followed, were full of wonder and 
worry about the little lost Marjory girl. 
Hunt as they did, and advertise, and offer 
big rewards, nothing was heard of her. 
Mr. Brook shut himself up at Overbrook 
and would see no one. There were strange 
men in Brookside, whom Father said were 
detectives — men who made a business of 
looking into and straightening up strange 
happenings. 

Nancy Spindle came sadly to The Penny 
Bank to say good-by. 

“Seems as if everybody I know gets lost,” 
she said. 

“But they always get found again,” cried 
Lissy happily. 

“That’s so,” said Nancy. 

She was going now, she said, to Miss 
Wren’s, where the two Marties were. But 
just as soon as she could, she was going back 
57 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


to the Barnard Home to stay with her 
blessed babies. She hugged Trixy and Pet, 
and went away, promising that when she 
came to Jane Wren’s again she would make 
the little Pennies a visit, too. 

It seemed to Pet that he and Patrick 
White were the only ones who remembered 
that poor William Gray was still lost, too. 
The three Penny boys had a meeting soon 
after the Fair. They gravely decided that 
of course, as they couldn’t deliver the cat 
to Mr. Brook, the five dollars must be re- 
turned. So, as Father wouldn’t hear of one 
of the Pennies going to Overbrook they sent 
the money by Thomas. 

“It doesn’t seem quite right to have a 
Thanksgiving dinner with poor little Mar- 
jory lost,” said Lissy one night when Miss 
Doris had come to The Penny Bank to talk 
things over. “But it doesn’t seem as right, 
58 


USSY’S THANKSGIVING DINNER 


somehow, not to have one. We did give it 
up when Billy got lost and the money had 
to go back to Mr. Brook. But then John’s 
box came with shoes for every one and coats 
for the boys and Trixy — ” 

“What did John send you?” asked Miss 
Doris. It seemed to her that Lissy never 
had anything. 

“Money to buy whatever I wanted most,” 
said Lissy, her voice quivering with joy. 
“He says I’m old enough now to buy my own 
things. Isn’t that dear of John? Oh, I 
just wish you knew him, Miss Doris.” 

“What are you going to buy, dear?” said 
Miss Doris. She just ached to help Lissy 
spend John’s gift in pretty comfortable 
things for her own neglected little self. 

“It’s a great secret,” said Lissy. “But 
I’ll tell you. I’m going to buy one of our 
own turkeys for our dinner — you know we 
59 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

can never afford to save out one. Mrs. 
Greene, the grocer’s wife, is going to buy it 
of Father for me. Isn’t that fun? And 
then I’m going to buy just as many other 
things as I can to make a real Thanksgiv- 
ing dinner. I’ve always wanted a real 
one.” 

When Miss Doris reached home that 
night she did something she had long been 
wanting to do. She sat down and wrote a 
letter to John Penny. She said she was the 
teacher in the Brookside school, and that 
she was quite sure it was wrong for his little 
sister Lissy to be kept out of school to look 
after a family. Lissy said there was no use 
to speak to her father, as he had more wor- 
ries now than he could attend to. So, 
couldn’t John Penny do something so that 
Lissy could begin school at once? Miss 
Doris knew John Penny’s address by heart — 
60 


USSY’S THANKSGIVING DINNER 


she had helped one or another of the little 
Pennies write it so often on letters at school. 
So she addressed the letter and mailed it. 

The Thanksgiving dinner was a great 
success. Father was just as surprised and 
pleased as Lissy had known he would be. 
And he was his very dearest jolliest self and 
helped in all the stories and songs and 
games. And Miss Doris, who was one of 
the best parts of the party, decided that she 
had never seen a father who loved his chil- 
dren more, or who wanted to do more for 
their happiness. 

Then, right in the midst of all the merri- 
ment, came a knock on the back door of The 
Penny Bank. And when the little Pennies 
all rushed to open the door there was 
Thomas with a big basket. And when the 
basket was unpacked there were all sorts of 
things which didn’t often find their way into 
61 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

The Penny Bank — nuts, candy, fruit, ice- 
cream, and dainty cakes. On top of the 
goodies was a large bunch of red carna- 
tions. 

“For Lissy,” was all that was on the card, 
except Mr. Brook’s name. 

The little Pennies joined hands and ca- 
pered and danced about the basket. Even 
Lissy forgot that she was quite grown-up. 
She hugged her carnations, and danced, too. 
Then they began to eat. And, although 
they had eaten good-sized dinners before, 
they seemed to have room for plenty of 
everything the basket held. 

But with the coming of the basket Father 
had grown quite silent. 

“He’s tired,” Lissy said to the boys. 
“Don’t make so much noise.” 

Somehow it seemed to Miss Doris that 
Mr. Penny did not like the Thanksgiving 
62 


LISSY’S THANKSGIVING DINNER 


basket from Overbrook. He would not 
spoil his children’s good time by saying so. 
But he was not just pleased. Miss Doris 
couldn’t help wondering why. 


63 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


CHAPTER VI 

MARJORY BEGINS TO SEE-SAW 

N EVER before in all her little life 
had Marjory seen anything quite 
like that big bustling County 
Fair. But more than anything else on the 
whole ground she liked the Penny kittens. 
She made Ross, the chauffeur, stop the car 
in front of the box where they sat under 
their bright blue card. 

“Isn’t Billy the cunningest?” she said to 
Nancy Spindle, who sat with her in the ton- 
neau. “I do wish I had him right here in 
the car with me this minute.” 

“He’d get away,” said Nancy. She 
wasn’t thinking much about William Gray, 
or Marjory, either, just then. She had 
64 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


never been to a County Fair. Everything 
interested her. But, just now, she was cran- 
ing her neck to see across the track where a 
tree-shaded enclosure was filled with cars, 
motor-cycles, wheels, carriages, and all sorts 
of vehicles. 

“Do you see that old buggy over there 
and that fat, funny, white horse?” she said 
excitedly. Marjory did, standing on the 
seat, and craning her neck. “Those two 
dear children on the seat are my Martie 
Twins.” 

Of course Marjory had heard from 
Nancy all about the lost and found Marties. 
She didn’t say anything. But a queer lit- 
tle lump came into her throat. She did not 
want Nancy Spindle to think any more of 
the Marties than she did of her — Marjory 
Brook. Nancy Spindle belonged to her, 


now. 


65 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

“Oh, I must just run over there and speak 
to them, may I, please, Mrs. Brown?” cried 
Nancy. She leaned appealingly toward 
Mrs. Brown on the front seat with Ross. 
“I’ll come right back.” 

“Of course,” said Mrs. Brown, smiling at 
Nancy’s eager face. 

Marjory did not want Nancy to go. 
Then, too, she thought Nancy should have 
asked her permission — not Mrs. Brown’s, 
who really belonged to her, too. They 
were both to do whatever she wanted — 
Daddy said so. But Marjory was really 
trying to be nice to Nancy Spindle — she 
wanted her to like her as much as she did 
the Marties. 

“You may go,” she said importantly to 
Nancy, already getting out of the car, “if 
you’ll buy me three balloons — a blue one, 
a red one, and a green one.” 

66 


MARJORY BEGINS TO SEE-SAW 

“Three?” cried Nancy. She had never 
before been with any one who spent money 
as if it wasn’t of any account, the way 
Marjory did. She couldn’t get used to 
it. 

“Three, Nancy Spindle,” said Marjory. 

Nancy Spindle took the purse and disap- 
peared in the crowd. After some time 
Marjory saw her beside the open buggy, 
reaching up to hug the Marties. 

“Nancy Spindle hasn’t bought my bal- 
loons,” cried Marjory. 

“She will, dear, on her way back,” said 
Mrs. Brown. “Look — the air-ship is really 
going up, this time.” 

Marjory didn’t care anything about air- 
ships She had been with Daddy to see too 
many of them. It was hard work to watch 
Nancy with the Marties. She felt left out 
of things, and very sulky about it. She 
67 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

turned her eyes to the gray and white Penny 
kittens. Patrick White was asleep, but 
William Gray sat up stiff and straight, the 
hair on his back raised a little as if he was 
frightened. 

And back of the box Marjory’s wonder- 
ing eyes saw a boy’s face which bobbed up 
and down, showing big brown freckles and 
a fringe of whitish hair. 

“You bad little Penny boy,” she cried. 
“You’re trying to take my Billy.” 

No one heard Marjory’s little voice in the 
noise everywhere. Then Marjory saw that 
the freckled boy wasn’t either of the three 
Penny boys she had seen. And Nancy had 
told her there were only three. So he 
wasn’t a Penny — good or bad. Marjory 
leaned forward in the car. The boy was* 
hacking at the box with his knife. He loos- 
ened one of the slats — one end, then the 
68 


MARJORY BEGINS TO SEE-SAW 


other. He took it out. He reached for the 
cat. But, somehow, he fumbled. And, in 
a second there was a flash of gray, and 
straight through the opening flew William 
Gray. 

The boy clutched for him, missed, 
clutched again. Billy, frightened out of at 
least three of his nine lives, dashed straight 
for the Brook car. Almost as swift and 
quiet as the cat, herself, Marjory unfastened 
the door and slipped out after him. 

It was not strange that no one saw her. 
For at that very minute, with a whir of 
wings, and a great upward sweep, the air- 
ship rose. Up, up, up, it went, every eye, 
almost, watching it. Even the freckled boy 
forgot the cat for a minute. Every one 
cheered and clapped, the bands played, and 
auto-horns everywhere swelled the chorus 
of noise. 


69 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


Marjory did not see the air-ship. She 
was not conscious of seeing anything except 
that flying bit of a cat. It slipped under 
the car. She clutched at it and thought 
she had it. But she lost it. It flew under 
the car. She flew around. The gray fluff 
was just disappearing under another car. 
Marjory forgot all about the freckled boy. 
She flew after the cat. In and out of the 
crowd, which paid no attention to her, dodg- 
ing trees and booths, she sped on. It was a 
long hard chase. And Marjory had never 
done anything like it before. But she 
would not give up. At last, a long way 
from the car and Mrs. Brown and Ross, she 
caught Billy. 

She cuddled him up against her and tried 
to quiet him. With him clutched tight, she 
turned to go back to the car. 

But now, instead of being carried along 
70 


MARJORY BEGINS TO SEE-SAW 

with the crowd of men, women, and chil- 
dren, Marjory found she was going against 
it. It was not easy. She hadn’t known be- 
fore that there were so many people and 
horses and cars everywhere. She was be- 
wildered and frightened, too, by the strange 
noises all about her — the blare of bands, 
voices shouting through megaphones, auto- 
drivers honking, and drivers of horses call- 
ing to her to get out of the way. Wherever 
she tried to go, Marjory found she was in 
some one’s way, yet, all the time, no one 
seemed really to see her. Billy struggled 
and mewed. Marjory hid him as well as 
she could in her little coat, and hung on to 
him with both hands. Tired out at last, 
with being jostled and ordered out of the 
way, Marjory sank down on the ground 
under a tall tree. Maybe the car would 
come and find her there. 

71 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


But the car did not come. All at once, 
it seemed to Marjory, that every one was 
hurrying home, or somewhere. Along with 
other teams from the enclosure, Marjory saw 
the funny high old buggy and the sleepy 
white horse Nancy had pointed out to her 
from the car. A man was driving. His 
wife and a baby were on the seat. And the 
Marties were crowded between and in front 
of them. They were all laughing and talk- 
ing and having the jolliest time. Marjory 
tried to make them hear or see her. But 
they never glanced her way. 

Just then, from the other side of the tree, 
a man came up to her. 

“Lost, aren’t you, little girl?” he said. 

Marjory nodded. It was dreadful. But 
the thing she had heard talked about many 
times, when Daddy and Mrs. Brown did 
not know she even noticed or understood, 
72 


MARJORY BEGINS TO SEE-SAW 


seemed to have happened to her. She was 
lost. 

“I’ll help you find your folks,” said the 
man. He put out a big dirty hand. 

All little Marjory’s life kind people had 
done kind things for her. It was not strange 
that she went at once with the man. 

“They’re in a car,” she said eagerly. 

“What kind of a car?” asked the man just 
as eagerly. 

“The new gray one,” said Marjory. 
“And Ross wears a gray livery.” 

The man’s eyes glanced at the little girl 
trotting along so trustingly at his side. She 
was plainly dressed, but she looked like a 
rich man’s child — the kind for which big 
rewards were offered. 

“That’s a fine little cat,” he said. 
“What’s his name, now?” 

“William Gray Penny,” said Marjory. 

73 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

She did not quite like this man. And Mar- 
jory never would talk to people she did not 
like. She decided not to tell him the cat’s 
name was to be William Gray Brook. 

“And what’s yours?” said the man. 
“Something real pretty, I guess?” 

“Marjory,” said the little girl. She was 
searching eagerly everywhere for the big 
gray car. “If we can’t find the car,” she 
said timidly, “we might go to Overbrook — 
could you find that? It’s on a hill — some- 
where.” 

“We’ll stop and ask the way,” said the 
man. 

Then Marjory saw that the part of the 
fair ground they were in was strange to her. 
There were few cars. The grass was worn 
off and trampled down. A big tent was 
being taken down. Big wagons with big 
horses harnessed to them, waited. Strange- 
74 


MARJORY BEGINS TO SEE-SAW 


looking people stood about. Some of them 
were working. Most of them wrangled in 
loud unpleasant voices. A small tent was 
still standing. Out of this tent, came a 
woman. She was large and strong-looking, 
like Mrs. Brown. But she wasn’t pretty 
and pink-cheeked and clean and sweet like 
Mrs. Brown. She came toward the man 
who still held one of Marjory’s hands. 
They talked together. For a while Mar- 
jory didn’t understand them. 

“I don’t like it,” said the woman at last. 
She looked at Marjory, soberly. She took 
her hand away from the man’s. 

“Hal will,” said the man. “It means big 
money, if it’s managed right.” 

“It can’t be managed right,” said the 
woman. “And I don’t like it.” 

“I want to go home,” said Marjory. It 
seemed to her that the man and woman had 
75 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


forgotten all about her. Billy mewed and 
clawed. Marjory’s little hand was 
scratched and bleeding. 

The woman lifted her in her strong arms. 

“There, dearie,” she said. “You come 
with Sue — you and the pretty kitty. Sue’ll 
give you both something to eat.” 

“I don’t want to eat,” wailed Marjory, 
“I want to go home.” 

“Yes, dearie,” said the woman again. 
She led Marjory toward the other woman. 
They all smiled at her and said she was a 
pretty child, and then they all went on with 
whatever they were doing. The big woman 
fed Billy some milk. She tried to have 
Marjory eat some bread and broth. But 
she wouldn’t eat, and only said over and 
over, “I want to go home.” 

Sue took her in her arms, again, and told 
her she should go home in just a little while. 

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MARJORY BEGINS TO SEE-SAW 

By and by, Marjory stopped crying and ate 
a little broth. 

“Now, I’m ready,” she said. She slipped 
her hand in Sue’s. “Take me home, 
please!” 

Instead, Marjory found herself put with 
two or three women, into a large wagon 
with a queer canvas top. The large woman 
climbed in after the others. Soon the 
wagon moved away from the empty fair 
ground, along a pretty country road. 

“Are we going home now?” cried Mar- 
jory. 

Sue reached down and patted her hand. 

“Just cuddle down and sleep, dearie,” she 
said. “You’ll be home in a little while.” 

Marjory was glad to shut her tired eyes. 
With Billy asleep in her arms, she did go to 
sleep. She roused up, once or twice, to find 
the big wagon still moving along slowly in 
77 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

the darkness. She cried, and Sue hushed 
her. By and by they all stopped and ate a 
noisy meal by the light of lanterns. Mar- 
jory had bread and milk. 

She was so tired she fell asleep trying to 
eat. When she woke, it was morning. 
The big wagon had brought them to a 
strange town. A big tent was being raised. 
And Sue said, “Come to breakfast, Mar- 
j’ry.” 

“I want to go home,” said little Marjory. 

“Listen to me,” said Sue. She took Mar- 
jory into her arms. “Just be a good quiet 
little girl and do as Hal and Dick and Sue 
tell you you should, and by and by you’ll go 
home — you’ll see, dearie!” 


78 


SHE GOES DOWN, DOWN, DOWN 


CHAPTER VII 

SHE GOES DOWN, DOWN, DOWN 

F OR a while Marjory was too dazed 
and frightened by all her new and 
strange experiences to understand 
what had happened to her. But, at last, 
she realized that she had, somehow, become 
a part of a company of people who called 
themselves a Gypsy Troupe. Marjory 
didn’t know much about gypsies, and 
whether or not these people were real ones 
made little difference to her. There were 
Sue and her husband, Hal. There was 
Dick, the man who had found her on the 
Fair Ground. There were Rose and 
Fanny and several others whose names she 
79 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


wasn’t sure of. They went about the coun- 
try, like real gypsies, stopping where Fairs 
were held. They put up tents, told for- 
tunes, sang and danced. When Marjory 
fretted and grieved and cried for home Sue 
petted her and told her she would wake up 
and find herself back there some fine day. 
For a long time the little girl believed her, 
but, as she woke up, day after day, in the 
big wagon or the tent, she almost gave up 
ever seeing home again. 

Everywhere she went, she was closely 
watched and guarded. Sometimes she 
wasn’t allowed out of the tent at all. 

After a while she began to find out that, 
somehow, she had proved a great disap- 
pointment to Dick and to Hal — maybe even 
to Sue. Sue was always kind to her. She 
cried over her often, and said that this was 
a hard life. Poor little Marjory thought 
80 


SHE GOES DOWN, DOWN, DOWN 

so, too, and cried herself. But when Hal 
was around she was afraid to cry or speak — 
she was almost afraid to breathe. He was a 
big, dark man, with a harsh voice and cruel 
eyes. He stormed at Sue and the others in 
quite a frightful way, Marjory thought. 
No one of the Troupe could suit him. And 
they all, even Sue, were afraid of him. 

One night Marjory was supposed to be 
asleep in the small tent. Billy, as usual, 
was cuddled in her arms. If it hadn’t been 
for Billy, Marjory was sure she couldn’t 
have lived these days. Outside, Sue and 
Hal were talking. Hal was gruffer and 
angrier than usual. When Dick came up 
he spoke so plainly that even Marjory heard 
and understood. 

“Why didn’t you take a rich man’s child 
if you wanted to make money out of her?” 
he snarled. 


81 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


“Supposed I did,” said Dick. “She 
looked it — and she talked about a car.” 

“Car?” scoffed Hal. “That child didn’t 
come from no car. She’s a Penny, and I’ve 
found out about that family. They are as 
poor as you’d expect people with such a 
name would be. There will be no reward 
offered for her. Worst of it is, the child is 
old enough and bright enough to know she’s 
been taken. And we can’t give her up with- 
out trouble.” 

Now, Marjory did not understand all 
this. She knew she wasn’t a Penny, of 
course. They must think that was her 
name, because she had said Billy’s name was 
William Gray Penny. She did belong to 
a rich father. And the car had been his. 
But she was too frightened to say anything 
even to Sue. 

“That young un’ll do something to earn 
82 


SHE GOES DOWN, DOWN, DOWN 

her keep,” Hal went on, “or I’ll know the 
reason why.” 

Marjory did not know what he was talk- 
ing about now. “Earn her keep” meant 
nothing to her. Anyhow, she did not re- 
member the words long. She could not 
seem to remember anything long — except 
that she was lost, and nobody seemed to 
care. 

But the very next morning, when the big 
wagon stopped just outside a pretty little 
town, Sue came to her. Over her arm, she 
had a little ruffled white frock, a blue sash 
and blue shoes and stockings. 

“Put these on, dearie, and see if you can 
dance a little,” she said coaxingly. She 
cried as she slipped the little gown over 
Marjory’s head. “They were my own 
baby’s,” she said. “She was just as big as 
you are when she died.” 

83 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

Sue fastened the little frock. Then she 
tied the blue sash and put on the blue 
stockings and shoes. When Marjory was 
dressed, she took her to show Hal. 

“Cover up that yellow top-knot of hers,” 
he said. “Gypsy kids don’t have yellow 
hair, as a general thing.” 

From somewhere, Sue brought a dark 
curly wig. She put this over Marjory’s 
yellow hair. She tied a blue ribbon on it. 
When she looked in the glass Marjory 
didn’t know herself. 

“Now, run to Rose,” said Sue, kissing her, 
and wiping her eyes. “She’ll show you 
some pretty little dance-steps.” 

“Oh, I can dance beautifully,” cried Mar- 
jory with the first life she had shown since 
she became part of the Gypsy Troupe. “I 
can dance much better than Rose can.” 

Of course these strange people couldn’t 
84 


SHE GOES DOWN, DOWN, DOWN 


know it, but Marjory had begun to dance 
almost as soon as she had begun to walk. 
Often, while still a tiny child, she had 
slipped away from Daddy’s hand at the 
sound of a gay lilting-tune on a Victrola, 
or skipped about when she heard a street 
piano or a hurdy-gurdy. So she had been 
given the best of teachers. And now, when 
she chose, she could turn herself into a fly- 
ing cloud or a hovering butterfly, or a rose- 
petal in the wind. And while she danced 
she always forgot everything else. To-day, 
when she danced for Sue and Rose and the 
others, she forgot for the time that she was 
lost and that she was afraid of Hal. She 
was quite happy. And every one was de- 
lighted with her and said so — even Hal 
grunted and did not scold. 

It was Marjory, herself, who taught Billy 
to poise and balance daintily on her shoul- 
85 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


der while she danced. He was so cunning 
that even Hal wrinkled up his cross face in 
what was probably meant to be a smile at 
sight of him. 

At first, when Marjory knew she must go 
out and dance before noisy crowds of peo- 
ple she didn’t like, she was frightened. But 
when she began to dance she forgot all about 
herself, and danced just because she loved 
it so. Such a storm of applause greeted the 
slender dark-eyed little gypsy-maid with 
her silken gray pussy-cat that she had to go 
out twice and dance all over again. 

After this, Marjory and Billy had a place 
on every program. Marjory did not know 
it, but they more than “earned their keep.” 

Now that she had something to do, 
Marjory was not quite so unhappy with 
the Gypsy Troupe. She fed Billy. She 
washed and brushed and combed him till 
86 


SHE GOES DOWN, DOWN, DOWN 


his long silky fur shone like silver. She 
tied pretty bows around his neck to match 
her own hair-bows. 

Meanwhile, the weather grew cool and 
bright with color. Red and golden leaves 
flitted down over the big wagon as it went 
along hill roads and through still valleys. 
At night, when they stopped to rest, big bon- 
fires were lighted. Then, long rains began. 
The colors were washed away. The woods 
were dark and bare against the sky.' The 
roads were rough and muddy. Finally the 
big wagons and tents were stored away for 
winter. The Gypsy Troupe stopped at 
cheap hotels and danced and sang in cheap 
halls in small towns and villages. 

Marjory began to grow thin and weak 
and tired. She could scarcely dance. She 
became timid again and begged to go home. 
Hal talked often about folks who would 
87 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


not work and would eat. Marjory did not 
understand, but she knew he was angry with 
her about something. Sue told him he 
needn’t worry — Marjory did not eat any- 
thing, and she would not be with them long 
at this rate. Then Hal was angrier than 
ever. 

Sue was always kind. She put Marjory 
in the best bed there was. She fed her hot 
milk and broth. She cried over her. Mar- 
jory cried, too. She couldn’t always re- 
member, now, how a cloud floated through 
the blue sky, or how a rose-petal fell, or 
how a bluebird skimmed the air. By and 
by she did not even ask to go home. She 
sat in a quiet sad little heap all day, with 
Billy in her arms. When they told her to 
dance, she tried to. But one night, when 
the room was very warm and the audience 
very noisy, she fainted away. 

88 


SHE GOES DOWN, DOWN, DOWN 


Hal stormed at her dreadfully. Sue 
cried. But Marjory didn’t know or care. 
Billy nestled against her and purred and 
mewed. But she did not even hear him. 

Next morning, maybe — anyway, some 
morning after she fainted — Marjory woke 
up. She felt weak but much better than 
she had. Sue was beside her bed. She 
was crying. 

“It can’t be much worse for me than it 
is now,” she said, more to herself than to 
Marjory. “Hal can’t treat me any worse. 
And if it’s the last thing I do, I’m going 
to do it. Get up, dearie. Now, just you 
listen to Sue. If I was to dress you and 
feed you up good, and give you a bite to 
carry with you, and take you, myself, and 
put you on the right train with a ticket to 
the place you came from, could you get 
there — do you think?” 

89 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


Marjory sat up suddenly. 

“Home?” she cried. 

“Home,” said Sue, tears running down 
her face. 

“Oh,” cried Marjory, “oh, hurry, hurry, 
hurry!” 

With hands that hurried and trembled 
and were wet with tears, Sue dressed Mar- 
jory. She put on the little old soiled 
clothes she had worn when she came into 
the Gypsy Troupe. Then she made the 
child eat — Marjory didn’t know what. 
And then she put on her old coat and once 
dainty auto-hood. Over them, she wrapped 
a heavy shawl of her own and a thick green 
veil. 

All the time she talked in half-frightened 
whispers, which Marjory scarcely heard at 
the time, but remembered afterward. She 
had always been kind, hadn’t she? Mar- 
90 


SHE GOES DOWN, DOWN, DOWN 


jory must say, if she was asked and told the 
truth, that she had been treated well. Hal 
would blame her — Sue — dreadfully, but she 
did not care. Marjory would stay right on 
the train till she was home? She would 
know home when she saw it, wouldn’t she? 
It was a dreadful thing to do to send such 
a little thing so far alone, but what else 
could she do? She scarcely dared do that. 
Marjory did not answer anything Sue said. 
She only said over and over, “Oh, hurry, 
hurry!” 

“Now, we’re all ready, dearie,” whis- 
pered Sue, when the veil was tied. 

“All but Billy,” said Marjory. She drew 
her faithful little companion from the warm 
hollow of her bed where he had been snug- 
gled. 

Sue brought an old basket. Into this she 
put Billy. She fastened the cover. 

91 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


Then Sue and Marjory and Billy went 
out of the shabby lodging-house. Billy 
mewed a little in his basket and had to be 
muffled under the old shawl. They went 
through a shabby little town of which Mar- 
jory never even knew the name. They 
came into a big station, where the lights 
were still on. Sue put Marjory — basket 
and all — on one of the seats, and bustled 
away to get a ticket. 

Marjory was so weak and bewildered by 
what had happened and was still happen- 
ing that she just sat still, too dazed even to 
look about her. 

Then from somewhere, straight toward 
her, bounded a big handsome dog. He 
stood still a minute, sniffing the air suspi- 
ciously. Next minute he gave a quick 
yelp, dashed up to Marjory’s seat, grabbed 
the basket, Billy and all, and was off with it. 

92 


SHE GOES DOWN, DOWN, DOWN 

“Oh, oh,” screamed Marjory, startled out 
of her daze. She flew up, tripped in the 
folds of Sue’s shawl, and would have fallen, 
but that a tall red-cheeked boy arrived from 
somewhere just in time to save her. 

“Was it your basket, little girl?” he cried. 
“The rascal — what’s in it?” 

“Oh, Billy, Billy, Billy,” wailed Mar- 
jory. “My dear little gray pussy. Oh, 
he’ll be killed.” 

“Down, Fritz,” cried the boy. 

To Marjory’s surprise, although he quiv- 
ered from ear-tip to tail-tip and looked ex- 
actly like a naughty boy, the dog, over on 
the other side of the room, sat down, the 
basket still in his mouth. The next minute 
the boy crossed to him, rescued the basket, 
and brought it back— spits and growls 
coming from it in the fiercest, funniest 
fashion. 


93 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


“Is he dead?” cried Marjory, clutching 
her precious basket. 

“Not a bit of it,” said the boy cheerily. 
“Just hear him inside there. He’s a regu- 
lar whirlwind of a cat — but good as new. 
Want to look?” 

As well as she could for the green veil, 
which kept slipping over her eyes, Marjory 
looked into the basket. There sat a very 
much fluffed, very much huffed bit of a 
Billy. 

“Cunning little beastie,” said the boy. 

“Marj’ry,” cried Sue’s anxious voice back 
of them, “your train’s coming.” 

The boy gave Marjory the basket. Sue 
tied the cover again in place. She hurried 
Marjory away. On the way to the train 
she asked Marjory if she had told the boy 
anything about where she had been or where 
she was going. She seemed relieved when 
94 


SHE GOES DOWN, DOWN, DOWN 

Marjory said no. She kissed her several 
times, and Marjory felt tears on her 

face. She didn’t quite know whether they 
were hers or Sue’s. Then she was put 
aboard a train, which, almost at once, began 
to move. Marjory found that she and Billy 
were alone in a big red plush seat. 
Outside, the sun was just coming up over a 
broad flat country. She clutched the 

basket tight. And in a few minutes, her 
heavy head fell back and she was 
asleep. 

Billy was mewing, when, a long time 
afterward, she woke up. People, up and 
down the aisle, looked at her curiously. 
Across the aisle, was a tall, red-cheeked boy 
who smiled at her. Marjory couldn’t think 
where she’d seen him before. But she tried 
to smile back. 

The boy came over and sat down beside 
95 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

her. He let Billy out of his basket and 
held him gently in his arms. 

“I didn’t know you and Billy were going 
my way,” he said. “Or that you were trav- 
eling all alone. Going far?” 

“Home,” said Marjory. 

“Your ticket says Brookside,” said the 
boy. “That’s a long way. Don’t you and 
Billy want something to eat?” 

Then it came back to Marjory that this 
was the boy whose dog had run off with 
Billy. 

“Where’s the dog?” she asked, frightened 
again. 

“Oh, he’s in the baggage,” laughed the 
boy. “I have to go and look after him 
every little while. He may take it into his 
head to get off somewhere without me. 
He’s a funny runaway dog — Fritz is. 
What’s your name, little girl?” 

96 


SHE GOES DOWN, DOWN, DOWN 


“Marjory,” said Marjory. 

Then it almost seemed to her that she 
went to sleep again. Only as a long trou- 
bled dream could she afterward remember 
that day. The boy brought her something 
to eat, once or twice. Her head ached. 
She only wanted to sleep. She almost for- 
got where she was going. 

After a while she roused up again. The 
boy was standing in the aisle, talking to a 
young man and a woman in the seat ahead 
of her. 

“If you’re going to Brookside,” he said, 
“just see that she gets off there. I can’t find 
out much about her, except that she lives 
there. Her friends will probably meet her. 
This is my station.” 

Then the pleasant-faced boy spoke to her 
again. 

“Good-by, Marjory and Billy,” he said. 
97 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

Then he added something that sounded like 
“A Merry Christmas!” 

Billy mewed so piteously after that that 
Marjory had to rouse up a little and pet 
him. The lamps were lighted. After a 
long time, the train stopped. The young 
man ahead of her said, “This is Brookside, 
little girl — we’ll get off here.” 

Outside the train there was snow — more 
snow than Marjory had ever seen put to- 
gether in all her life. The young man 
spoke again. 

“Where next, little girl?” he said. 

“Home,” said Marjory. 

“No better place for Christmas Eve,” 
laughed the young man. “But just about 
where is yours, child?” 

“The poor little thing’s too sleepy to 
know,” said a motherly voice somewhere 
above her. Marjory reached out her hand 
98 


SHE GOES DOWN, DOWN, DOWN 

to one that came out of a muff toward her. 
“And her folks haven’t met her? Dear, 
dear!” 

“We’ll just take her along with us, Aunt 
Melissa,” said the young man. “Here’s a 
hack. Lissy will know who she is. She 
knows every man, woman, child, and dog in 
Brookside!” 


99 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


CHAPTER VIII 

CHRISTMAS COMES 

T HAT very Christmas Eve, when 
Marjory and Billy arrived so 
forlornly in Brookside, almost 
every one in the little town and from sev- 
eral miles around, was crowded in the 
schoolhouse, enjoying what Lissy Penny 
called “Miss Doris’s Christmas Surprise.” 

It had begun one night after school, early 
in December. Bob Penny burst excitedly 
into the kitchen of The Penny Bank, fol- 
lowed more slowly by Bert. 

“Miss Doris wants you, Lissy,” cried Bob. 
“Down at the schoolhouse, now — this min- 
ute. She’s waiting there.” 

100 


CHRISTMAS COMES 


“We’ll look after Pet and Trixy,” said 
Bert. 

“Do hurry, Lissy,” cried Bob. 

“I’m just a-flying, Bob,” laughed Lissy. 
“But I’ve got to look just the very best I 
can when I go to see Miss Doris. She’s 
just like a flower, herself, every minute.” 

Miss Doris was waiting for Lissy in the 
window of the little schoolhouse, where the 
red geraniums were. She had on a soft new 
geranium-colored gown, with a dainty col- 
lar and a black velvet bow. Lissy wanted 
to kiss her. Miss Doris must have seen the 
want, for she kissed Lissy, not once, but 
twice. 

“I have the loveliest plan, Lissy,” she 
cried. Miss Doris was just like a little girl, 
herself, outside of school, and sometimes in- 
side. “I wanted to keep it for a surprise 
for you, too. But it does so need you to 
101 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

help work it out. So I’m going to tell 
you.” 

“Oh, goody!” cried Lissy. Her eyes 
shone. “It’s so much nicer to surprise than 
to be surprised, Miss Doris.” 

Miss Doris and Lissy sat down together 
on one of the front seats. They talked and 
talked, until the room grew quite dark, and 
a big round moon smiled in at them. They 
talked in whispers quite as if there was 
somebody around somewhere with wide- 
open ears to hear all they said. And when 
Lissy ran home her eyes were bright and 
her cheeks almost as red as the bit of holly 
Miss Doris had given her. 

She shook her head and smiled at the 
eager boys waiting for her in the old kitchen. 

“It’s Miss Doris’s Christmas Surprise,” 
she said. “She told me I might tell you 
that. But none of the other children are 
102 


CHRISTMAS COMES 


even to know there is to be a Surprise. 
Just see how much she trusts you.” 

The days went along too slowly for the 
eager children, too fast for the eager grown- 
ups, just as days at Christmas always have a 
way of doing. The little town was so full 
of the Christmas spirit that you felt little 
tingles and thrills of it wherever you went. 
Everybody smiled happily, and almost said 
something, then remembered, said nothing, 
but went on smiling. Even Pet caught the 
Christmas must-give-somebody-something 
feeling. He decided there were two peo- 
ple to whom he must make Christmas gifts. 
One was Miss Doris! The other was poor 
lonely Mr. Brook, up at Overbrook, waiting 
for news of his little lost daughter. 

Everything in The Penny Bank was 
looked over and talked over. Every spare 
penny was counted. It didn’t take long to 
103 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

count them — there were so few. Really 
there seemed nothing Pet could give, until 
a day or so before Christmas when a box 
came from John Penny. In it, were some 
beautiful ribbons for Lissy, quite dainty 
enough for Miss Doris, herself. Lissy did 
them up prettily, and smiled to think one of 
Pet’s Christmas gifts was ready. As for the 
other — maybe she could find something 
later. Lissy never gave up hoping nice 
things were coming her way. 

“If Father would only let me go and see 
him,” said Lissy to Miss Doris, one night, 
as they worked at the Surprise. “But he 
won’t — not even to thank him for that 
lovely Thanksgiving basket. It isn’t a bit 
like Father.” 

The night before Christmas came, all 
stars and soft snowflakes and tinkling sleigh- 
bells, just as it should be. When school 
104 


CHRISTMAS COMES 


was out, Miss Doris told everybody that 
they must come to the schoolhouse at seven 
that evening for a Christmas Surprise. 

And when the children rushed into their 
homes to tell the good news the Surprise 
began. For they found that fathers and 
mothers and big brothers and sisters had 
known all about it for weeks, and that 
they were all invited to the schoolhouse, 
too. 

At seven o’clock, when they all crowded 
into the schoolhouse, there, where Miss 
Doris’s desk usually stood, was the Surprise, 
itself — or the loveliest part of it — a tall, 
beautiful Christmas Tree. It was glitter- 
ing with balls and tinsel and the little col- 
ored bells and chains and stockings and 
gifts they had made themselves. And bun- 
dles of all sorts were heaped up under it. 
The air was just full of its fragrance and 
105 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


light and good cheer. Miss Doris stood 
up by the Christmas Tree and told every- 
body how she and Lissy had been all over 
town and asked everybody to do a little 
something toward the Surprise, and how 
everybody had been glad to. Then she 
asked some of the children to say some of 
the little Christmas verses they had been 
saying in school all the month, and to sing 
some of the songs, and to play some of the 
plays. And they finished up with a little 
Christmas Thank You, which they had 
learned, not knowing when it was to be 
used. Then, when even Lissy supposed the 
Surprise was about over, there came some 
more of it. 

While some of the grown-ups lighted the 
little Tree, several of the boys brought in a 
big hamper full of gifts, with gifts tied to 
its handles which dragged and dangled in 
106 


CHRISTMAS COMES 


the most fascinating way. And then it 
came out that Mr. Brook, up in his empty 
home, had heard about the Surprise, too, 
and had sent a gift for every little boy and 
gii»l in Brookside in the name of little lost 
Marjory. 

The candles on the Tree danced and 
twinkled and sputtered over with joy. And 
the children bubbled over, too, and there 
were more songs and a great deal of Merry 
Christmasing. Then little folks and big 
folks, all laden with gifts and good will, 
started home through the soft Christmas 
snow. 

Miss Doris went with the Pennys. She 
had accepted Lissy’s invitation to spend 
Christmas in The Penny Bank. Lissy 
drew Trixy along on one of the new sleds. 
Once Trixy fell off and had to be put back 
Father carried Pet, who was more 
107 


on. 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

than half asleep. And Bob and Bert were 
everywhere frolicking in the snow. 

When they came in sight of The Penny 
Bank there was a bright light in the kitchen 
windows. 

“Why, who can be there?” cried Lissy. 
“Almost everybody was at the Surprise — 
except poor Mr. Brook.” 

They all guessed and wondered and hur- 
ried along as fast as they could. And when 
they poured into the kitchen they saw at 
once, that for them, the Christmas Surprises 
had only just begun. 

In the big rocker before the stove sat a 
big, comfy, grandmotherly sort of person. 
In her arms was a child sound asleep. And 
cutting bread to make toast was a tall young 
man. As the surprised Pennys all stopped 
just inside the room he came forward, 
laughing and holding out both hands. 

108 


CHRISTMAS COMES 


“A bad Penny/’ he said, “always returns 
— some time. Why, Father — Lissv — don’t 
you know me?” 

“John!” cried Father, his free arm going 
up over the tall young man’s shoulder. 

The next minute Lissy and Trixy, who 
was, as usual, in her arms, were both gath- 
ered up into the tall young man’s arms. 
And Bob and Bert and Pet were hanging to 
him. And everybody was crying “John! 
John! John!” 

“Who’s this extra girl?” cried John, free- 
ing himself at last from his small brothers, 
and turning — Lissy and Trixy still in his 
arms — toward Miss Doris. “Is she a 
Penny, too?” 

“Oh, I wish she was,” cried Lissy. 
“She’s Miss Doris Dean, our new school- 
teacher. And oh, Miss Doris— this is 
John!” 


109 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

“So I thought,” said Miss Doris, with 
all her dimples out. “I’m glad you’ve 
come, Mr. Penny.” 

“Well, if you’re all through welcoming 
John Penny, suppose you say a word or so 
to your great-aunt Melissa,” said the pleas- 
ant-faced woman in the rocking-chair. 

“I’ve been far enough to find her,” said 
John Penny. He put Lissy down, and went 
across to Aunt Melissa. “But now she’s 
found and here, she’ll stay found and here. 
And, Miss Dean, Lissy is going to school 
just as soon as she can get there.” 

Everybody laughed to see Aunt Melissa 
throw both arms around Father and hug 
him quite as if he was a boy. 

“I brought him up,” she cried, “from the 
time he was as big as that smallest boy there. 
Why shouldn’t I hug him?” 

While all the little Pennys were shyly 
110 


CHRISTMAS COMES 


getting acquainted with their new great- 
aunt, and John Penny was explaining how 
he remembered that she lived way up in 
New Hampshire somewhere, and had 
looked her up and found her alone and 
ready to come to The Penny Bank to live, 
Miss Doris stole a look at the sleeping child 
whom Aunt Melissa had laid on the old 
lounge. 

She was a beautiful little thing with a tiny 
flower face framed in golden hair. Her 
hands and feet were small and dainty. But 
her clothes were old and soiled and her 
shoes quite worn out. 

Sleeping cozily in a ball beside her, was 
a small gray cat. As Miss Doris bent above 
the child, the cat uncurled itself, stretched, 
and sprang to the floor. 

There was a shout of joy from Pet, who 
was never far from Mis% Doris, if he could 
111 


MARJORY; THE CIRCUS GIRL 

help it. The next minute he had the small 
gray cat in his arms. 

“Billy’s come back!” he cried. “Billy’s 
come back!” 

At the name the little girl stirred. 

“Billy,” she said. She struggled to her 
feet out of the shawl wrapped about her. 
She pushed back a lock of yellow hair. 
Her eyes were dark and startled. 

“Where is Billy?” she cried. 

Every one turned to look at the little 
thing. 

“Whose child is this, Peter?” began Aunt 
Melissa. “She got off the train here, and 
said she wanted to go home. But there was 
no one to meet her — so we brought her with 
us.” 

“I knew Lissy’d know her,” said John. 
Lissy, looking puzzled enough, was 
slowly shaking her head. Then, Pet, paus- 
112 



“‘WHY, it’s THE MARJORY GIRL — IT’S THE MARJORY 

GIRL ! ’ ” 



CHRISTMAS COMES 


ing with William Gray in his arms, and 
Bert and Bob, one on each side of him, all 
cried at once, — 

“Oh, oh, oh! Why, it’s the Marjory 
girl — it’s the Marjory girl!” 


113 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


CHAPTER IX 

AND SHE COMES UP, UP, UP AGAIN 

I T was Father, himself, who picked up 
the Marjory girl and headed the pro- 
cession that started to Overbrook. 
Lissy held fast to one of his hands. Pet 
held fast to one of Lissy’s. Back of them, 
pranced Bob and Bert. Last of all, came 
Miss Doris and John Penny. Aunt Me- 
lissa had stayed at home to put Trixy to bed. 

No one asked the Marjory girl any ques- 
tions. She was so tired and white and her 
big dark eyes looked so piteous and fright- 
ened. Lissy dropped Father’s hand long 
enough to pat hers gently. 

“It’s all over now,” she said, “whatever 
114 


AND SHE COMES UP, UP, UP AGAIN 

it was. Let’s think how glad every one is.” 

And right at that minute a beautiful plan 
hopped into Lissy’s head. In half-whispers 
she told it to Father. 

For a wonder Father didn’t say anything 
against this plan, even though it had to do 
with Mr. Brook. So while all the others 
waited breathlessly in the beautiful hall at 
Overbrook, Pet and the Marjory girl went, 
hand in hand, to the door of the library, 
where the startled servant said Mr. Brook 
was. They knocked, but they did not wait 
for an answer. Pet pushed open the door. 

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Brook,” he 
called. “I’ve bring-ed you a love-ly pres- 
ent!” 

Then the Marjory girl caught sight of a 
desolate figure before the fire, and darted 
across the room. 

“Oh, Daddy! My Daddy!” she cried. 

115 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

“Margie-girl!” 

Lissy pulled Pet away from the door and 
shut it softly. Then all the Pennys, little 
and big, and Miss Doris, went back down 
the hill to The Penny Bank. 

It was New Year’s Day and the last of 
John’s vacation. There had never before 
been such a short week — of that Lissy was 
quite sure. 

A big bright fire was burning in the old 
fire-place in the parlor. John had discov- 
ered that there was one there boarded up. 
He had uncovered it and cleaned it all out, 
and it was his New Year’s gift to the family. 
Aunt Melissa was his Christmas gift. The 
fire made a new place of the big, rather 
bare room. Miss Doris and all the little 
Pennys were sitting in its cheery blaze, so 
happy they did not suppose they could be 
any happier. Then there was the brisk 
116 


AND SHE COMES UP, UP, UP AGAIN 

jingle of sleigh-bells coming down the hill. 
And stopping before The Penny Bank, was 
the big Brook sleigh, piled high with fur 
robes, and with two prancing horses tossing 
pretty proud heads and pawing at the snow. 

Mr. Brook stepped from the sleigh and 
lifted out Marjory. She wore a gray fur 
coat, a gray fur hat with a long feather, 
and gray gloves. She carried a fluffy gray 
muff. Just at first Pet thought it was Wil- 
liam Gray himself. 

“We’ve come to thank the Pennys,” said 
Mr. Brook, as they came into the bright 
warm parlor, “for all they’ve done for us. 
We don’t know just how to do it.” 

Mr. Brook’s voice was so half glad and 
half sad that Lissy reached right up and 
patted his coat. 

“We didn’t do a thing except bring her 
home,” she cried. “But if we had done all 
117 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


we wanted to, just looking at her, now, is 
thanks enough.” Lissy smiled happily at 
every one. 

Miss Doris was taking off Marjory’s hat 
and coat. She wore a little thin white 
frock. Her yellow hair fluffed out prettily 
from the blue band which did its best to 
hold it in place. But she was so little and 
frail and pale and timid looking — it made 
your heart ache to see her in the midst of 
all the round rosy happy Pennys. She had 
such a frightened little way of staying close 
to her father, too, you wanted to take her 
right into your arms and comfort her. 

“Margie’s had a very sorry time of it,” 
said Marjory’s father. He drew his little 
daughter to a seat beside him on the sofa. 
“She’s been ill ever since she came home. 
I’ve had two doctors here from the city to 
see her. Both say she must forget every- 
118 


AND SHE COMES UP, UP, UP AGAIN 


thing that’s happened, and do all the happy* 
things she can think of. We’re going to 
tell you Pennys all about everything, be- 
cause we think you ought to know. And 
then we’re both going to forget it, aren’t we, 
Margie-girl?” 

“If I can,” said Marjory. 

Then, between them, Mr. Brook and 
Marjory told the story of the last three 
months. Some things that Marjory had not 
understood, Mr. Brook made plain. They 
began with the day at the Fair and Billy’s 
getting lost. Marjory told how she lost her- 
self, trying to capture Billy. Then she told 
about her strange life with the Gypsy 
Troupe, how she had lived in wagons and 
tents a while and then in cheap hotels, and 
of how she had danced. She tried to tell, 
then, of the long railway journey. There 
had been a nice boy in it, at the beginning, 
119 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

she said, and a dog who had run off with 
Billy, but who hadn’t hurt him. But she 
did not remember what had become of them. 

“He was a fine boy,” said John Penny. 
“He was the one who asked Aunt Melissa 
and me to keep an eye on you, you know, 
Marjory. I kept one, and Aunt Melissa, 
two — and that’s how you came here with us, 
you know.” 

“Of course these people had no idea who 
Marjory really was,” said Marjory’s father, 
his arm close around his little girl, as if he 
feared losing her again. “If they read the 
papers at all, they didn’t see that Marjory 
Brook of New York was Marjory Penny of 
Brookside. You see, Marjory let them 
think her name was Penny at first, and then 
did not dare tell them differently. And I 
made a grave mistake in using my New 
York address. But while every one knows 
120 


AND SHE COMES UP, UP, UP AGAIN 

my home there, few know of Overbrook. I 
had sent Marjory here, partly for greater 
safety. For I have always feared she 
would be taken from me, to be returned only 
when a big reward was offered. I sup- 
posed, of course, this was what had hap- 
pened, and that by using my best-known 
address I would get her back sooner.” 

Every one was looking solemn enough, 
when Lissy laughed softly. 

“Did you ever see-saw, Marjory?” she 
asked. 

“No,” said Marjory. “I don’t know any- 
thing about such common plays, Melissa 
Penny.” 

“Well, it’s the most fun, if it is common,” 
said Lissy stoutly. “You put a board over 
a saw-horse.” 

“What’s a saw-horse?” said Marjory 
scornfully. 


121 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

“There’s an old one out by the barn,” 
said Bob. “You can see it from the kitchen 
window, can’t she, Lissy?” 

“Show it to me,” commanded Marjory. 

Bob and Lissy and Marjory went to see 
the saw-horse. When they came back 
Lissy was talking eagerly. 

“You put a board across it, you know, 
Marjory. Then you get on one end of the 
board and some one gets on the other and 
you see-saw — one end goes up, then down, 
then up — ” 

Lissy paused, her cheeks quite scarlet 
from so much see-sawing. 

“Well?” said Marjory impatiently. 
“What of it?” 

“Well,” said Lissy, her cheeks staying 
scarlet, because all the grown-ups had 
stopped talking to listen to her, “that’s what 
you’ve done— hasn’t she, Miss Doris? 

122 


AND SHE COMES UP, UP, UP AGAIN 


Only, of course, not on a real see-saw board. 
First, you were way up high— that’s before 
you were lost. Then you went way down — 
thumpity-thump ! That’s when you were 
with the gypsies. And now you’re way up 
again. If only your name was Daw!” 

“Daw?” cried Marjory. “It isn’t half as 
pretty as Brook.” 

“But, you see,” cried Lissy, “if your name 
was Daw, you would be like the Mother 
Goose Marjory — ” 

“ ‘See, Saw, Marjory Daw’ 
don’t you remember?” 

“That’s in my book of Nursery Rhymes,” 
said Marjory. “But I don’t think it’s like 
me, is it, Daddy?” 

“A little, dear,” said the Marjory-girl’s 
father. He smiled at Lissy. 

Lissy smiled back. 

“There’s another verse in the book about 


123 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

‘Up, up, up, and down, down, downy.’ 
That’s like you, too,” she said. “Every- 
thing about you seems like a story-book girl 
to me, somehow. If I’d been lost like you, 
I’d just play it was a story — and not think 
about how dreadful it really was.” 

“It would not have happened to you,” said 
Marjory gravely. “Because you’re not rich 
and haven’t pretty clothes and cannot dance.” 

“Well, I’m glad of it, then,” laughed 
Lissy good-naturedly. “But, if it had hap- 
pened to me, I would play it was a story.” 

“I wish Margie had some one like Lissy 
with her all the time,” said Mr. Brook to 
Miss Doris. “She needs younger company. 
She wants Nancy Spindle back again. But 
Nancy Spindle, at the other end of the tele- 
phone, yesterday, says it is the croupy time 
of year, now, and she just can’t leave her 
blessed babies.” 


124 


AND SHE COMES UP, UP, UP AGAIN 

Every one laughed at that. And Lissy 
and Pet slipped out of the room. 

“They’ll be back in a minute,” said Bob. 
“Lissy’s gone to get something. I know 
what, but I can’t tell.” 

“Marjory’s an impolite little thing,” said 
John Penny to Miss Doris, in an undertone, 
while the others talked about Nancy Spin- 
dle and her babies. 

“She can’t help it,” said Miss Doris. 
“She doesn’t know any better. She’s always 
had everything her own way till this hap- 
pened. It may prove the making of her, 
with Lissy’s help— that blessed child.” 

Miss Doris turned to smile at Lissy com- 
ing back with Pet. In his arms was Billy. 

Pet ran straight to Marjory. 

“Wish you a Happy New Year,” he 
cried. He dropped Billy in her lap. 
“You can have him for nothing this time.” 

125 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

“May I really?” cried Marjory. Her 
sad little face brightened. She cuddled 
Billy up under her pretty pointed chin. 

“May I, Daddy, for my very own?” she 
asked. 

“Of course,” cried Lissy. “You got lost 
running after him. And you took care of 
him all the time you were gone. And you 
brought him all the way home. I’m sure 
Billy belongs to you, Margie.” 

“Margie has tried ever since she got home 
to make me buy Billy for her,” said Mar- 
jory’s father. “But I thought best not to. 
She has so much — and you — ” 

Lissy laughed. 

“You mean,” she cried, “we have so much, 
and Margie so little. That’s what you 
meant to say, Mr. Brook, wasn’t it?” 


126 


TWO MARTHA WASHINGTONS 


CHAPTER X 

TWO LITTLE MARTHA WASHINGTONS 

P ERHAPS no little girl ever began 
school more happily than Lissy. 
She was full of plans, and found 
out dear, quiet little ways of helping every- 
body. After she had been in school for a 
week Miss Doris wondered how she ever 
taught without her. 

Lissy studied and tried her best to have 
perfect lessons. But, somehow, she had 
been out of school so long this was not easy. 
Although Miss Doris helped her out of 
school, Lissy could not get the perfect marks 
she so longed for. It was all she could do 
to keep up with her class. 

“Miss Doris says it will be easier by and 
127 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

by,” Lissy told Aunt Melissa. “But I’m 
really afraid I’m always going to be stupid.” 
Lissy was as discouraged as so plucky a lit- 
tle girl could be. 

“I don’t believe there are any of the 
others who can bake bread and pies and 
cake, and cook, and sew, and do all the 
things you can, Lissy,” Aunt Melissa said. 
“Wait a little — you’ll get on better, just as 
Miss Doris says.” 

Just one thing beside her lessons troubled 
Lissy. Even after the visit of Marjory and 
Mr. Brook at The Penny Bank, and after 
several invitations to Overbrook, still Fa- 
ther would not let any of the little Pennys 
go there. Lissy had given up asking why. 
But she couldn’t help wondering. 

One Saturday morning, just a few days 
before Washington’s Birthday, a servant 
from Overbrook came to The Penny Bank. 

128 


TWO MARTHA WASHINGTONS 

He carried a number of small letters. Five 
of them he gave to Lissy. There was one 
addressed to her, and one to each of the 
boys. And each one of these said: 

Miss Marjory Brook 
at HOME 

ON WASHINGTON’S BIRTHDAY 
FROM FOUR TILL EIGHT 

The fifth letter was for Master Robert 
Penny. And it was written by Marjory, 
herself. 

“I am going to be a little Martha Wash- 
ington at the party,” she said, “and I want 
you to be a little George. Daddy has sent 
to New York for suits for us both. As soon 
as they come, I will send yours to you. You 
must all be sure to come, this time, for I 
can’t have any party without you.” 

“Isn’t that lovely?” cried Lissy. “Just 
129 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


think, Bob — a real George and Martha 
party — and you in a real little George suit. 
Won’t Marjory be the sweetest little Mar- 
tha? Oh, I do wish Father would come 
so I could tell him! Suddenly, Lissy’s face 
grew sober. “Do you suppose, Aunt Me- 
lissa,” she said gravely, “that Father will 
say we can’t go this time?” 

“I suppose — not!” said Aunt Melissa 
grimly. “You leave Peter Penny to me, 
Lissy. I’ll manage him.” 

Lissy never knew how Aunt Melissa 
managed — but, for this once, Father said 
they might all go to Overbrook. The 
Penny Bank was so full of joy at the very 
thought that much of the gladness spilled 
over and could be heard on all sides in gay 
laughs and shouts. 

Of course Miss Doris was invited to the 
party. By this time Miss Doris was a part 
130 


TWO MARTHA WASHINGTONS 


of all the glad things and most of the sad 
things that happened in Brookside. It was 
she who suggested that, as a surprise to 
George and Martha, each little guest should 
wear some pretty touch of Colonial cos- 
tume. All the mothers and aunts and big 
sisters agreed and helped — Miss Doris was 
one of those delightful persons whom every 
one always wanted to help. 

Lissy was wild with joy — any kind of 
dress-up and make-believe delighted her. 
She and Miss Doris and Aunt Melissa ran- 
sacked the old attic of The Penny Bank. 
’Way back in a forgotten corner, they came 
across a dusty, cobwebby old chest. And 
when Aunt Melissa had dusted and dusted, 
and Miss Doris had turned a rusty key in 
a rusty lock, the chest was found to be full 
of old gowns, ribbons, bonnets, and even 
shoes. 


131 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

“They must have belonged to your 
mother’s folks, Lissy,” said Aunt Melissa. 
“She was a lovely little thing — your own 
mother. She had big dark eyes and the 
most beautiful golden hair I ever saw. And 
she had the prettiest hands and feet, and al- 
ways wore dainty things.” 

“Is there any reason why Lissy shouldn’t 
have these things?” asked Miss Doris, look- 
ing up eagerly from the chest. In her 
hands was a string of coral beads, with a 
golden clasp, marked M. 

“None whatever,” said Aunt Melissa. 
“That M on there was for Margaret — that 
was her name, you know, Lissy. I never 
knew there were any such things here. 
We’ll get some one to come right in and 
make Lissy some new dresses.” 

“Oh, let me — please!” cried Miss Doris. 
“I can make dresses — I make my own. 

132 


TWO MARTHA WASHINGTONS 


And I’d just love to dress up Lissy.” 

Out of some pretty blue and white flow- 
ered stuff Miss Doris made a little Colonial 
gown for Lissy to wear to the party. Some 
old lace made dainty undersleeves. She 
wore her hair high on her head. It was 
powdered lightly and held in place by a 
silver comb. She had high-heeled strap- 
slippers, and she carried a fan. 

The other little Pennys were made as 
gay and old-timesy as possible. Bob was 
a perfect little George Washington — plum- 
colored satin suit, buff waistcoat, stock, ruf- 
fles, braided hair tied with a black bow, 
slippers with big buckles, silken socks, 
pointed hat, sword, and all. He made him- 
self as tall as he possibly could. Even on 
his tiptoes, Martha must still be a little 
taller. But he was big of his age, and she 
was small. And when he marched up to 
133 


MARJORY; THE CIRCUS GIRL 

her, just as Miss Doris had told him, hand 
on heart, with a low bow, every one clapped 
their hands. And when Martha, in the 
richest and daintiest of court costumes of 
soft gold color, swept him a courtesy and 
took his arm, every one clapped again 
harder than ever. 

Mr. Brook, himself, and Marjory’s nurse, 
and Miss Doris helped in the games. They 
played all the old fashioned things they 
could think of — the needle’s eye, hunt the 
slipper, ring around a rosy, and drop the 
handkerchief. There were prizes given for 
different things — little flags, bunches of 
cherries, tiny hatchets, and all sorts of 
pretty things that didn’t often find their 
way to Brookside. 

And Marjory danced for them — first, 
some old-fashioned dances, such as, maybe, 
the real Martha Washington danced; and 
134 


TWO MARTHA WASHINGTONS 


then, a pretty little new one, with Billy bal- 
ancing daintily on her shoulder. 

After a wonderful supper, every one 
danced — Martha and George leading. 
Mr. Brook danced with Lissy. And Pet 
danced with Miss Doris. 

Then Mr. Brook said he was so pleased 
with all the costumes he had decided to 
give a prize for the best. Some friends of 
his who were staying at Overbrook, were 
appointed judges. It did not take them 
long to select the two best ones among the 
girls’ — Marjory’s and Lissy’s. 

“Lissy’s, of course,” Mr. Brook said to 
Miss Doris. “Hers is home-made. Mar- 
jory’s came straight from a costumer’s in 
New York.” 

“Yes,” said Miss Doris absently. Mr. 
Brook went to speak to the judges. Miss 
Doris stood where he left her. She stared 
135 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

fascinated at the two little girls, who, side 
by side, walked up and down to show off 
their costumes. 

Lissy was taller than Marjory, and not 
quite so fairy-like. Her hair was darker 
and redder. Her eyes were gray — not 
brown. Her cheeks were round and rosy. 
Marjory’s face was pale and pointed. Her 
eyes were dark. Her hair was like a gol- 
den cloud. She was slender and every 
move she made was graceful and bird-like. 
She carried her little head proudly. Her 
mouth wasn’t so sweet and kissable as Lis- 
sy’s. But for one brief minute it seemed 
to Miss Doris that they looked alike. 
Rich, well-cared-for Marjory Brook looked 
like poor, neglected, hard-working Lissy 
Penny. Miss Doris looked again — but all 
in a minute the resemblance was gone. 
Lissy’s face had suddenly flashed into the 
136 


TWO MARTHA WASHINGTONS 


brightest smiles all set with dimples. Mar- 
jory’s face had grown sullen and her mouth 
drooped discontentedly. 

The prize had been given — and given to 
Lissy. And it was a shining five-dollar 
gold piece. 

Lissy came flying to Miss Doris. 

“Oh, just see!” she cried. She held out 
the coin. “They gave it to me. But it’s 
almost all yours — ’cause you made the cos- 
tume, Miss Doris, and thought it out, and 
everything.” 

“I’m going to fix the dear little thing so 
she’ll be just as pretty as Marjory all the 
time,” thought Miss Doris. “She’s much 
sweeter now.” 

Then, a strange thing happened. Mar- 
jory had been standing — a sulky little Mar- 
tha among her guests. She had expected 
the prize, of course. That was not strange, 
137 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

because everything did come to her that she 
wanted. And her eyes were fixed envi- 
ously on Lissy as she sped to Miss Doris. 
She watched her for a minute. Suddenly, 
her face brightened. Like a yellow bird, 
she darted across the room. She slipped 
her arm around Lissy. 

“Oh, I’m glad,” she cried. “Or I’m 
going to be, I think, in just a minute — that 
you have it instead of me. You do look so 
happy. And, please, won’t you like me 
just the way you do Miss* Doris, Lissy?” 

Lissy did not hesitate. She threw both 
arms around Marjory’s neck and kissed her. 

“Why, I’ve always liked you,” she cried. 
“But I’d just love to love you, and, if you’ll 
let me, I’m going to begin this very minute!” 


138 


MARJORY BEGINS SCHOOL 


CHAPTER XI 

MARJORY BEGINS SCHOOL 

W ASHINGTON’S Birthday 

came on Friday. Saturday, 
Miss Doris, Aunt Melissa, and 
Lissy, herself, made a whole new gown for 
Lissy. It was made of some soft dark-blue 
wool stuff which Miss Doris had found in 
the wonderful chest in the attic. It was 
just as much like the one in the big fashion- 
book as possible. 

Monday, Lissy wore the new gown and a 
lovely red ribbon on her hair. She was 
fond of bright, pretty colors. 

“And the very best thing about it all is,” 
she whispered to Miss Doris, just after 
school had begun, “it is made out of some- 
139 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

thing my own Mother w T ore once.” Lissy’s 
face was like a sunbeam. 

Just then the outside door of the room 
opened quietly. There, pale and a little 
timid, but bright-eyed and eager — her maid 
just back of her — stood Marjory. 

“Daddy says I may try coming to school, 
Miss Doris,” she said. “I’ve teased him 
ever since my party. And oh, please, may 
I sit with Lissy Penny?” 

Miss Doris smiled and nodded. She 
smiled all the time Annette told her just 
what Miss Marjory could and couldn’t do. 
She said, “Yes” and “Thank you” in just 
her sweetest way. And when Annette had 
gone, after coming back once to tell Miss 
Marjory to be very careful about not taking 
cold, Miss Doris put her arm around the 
little girl and brought her to Lissy’s seat 
and told her how very glad she was that her 
140 


MARJORY BEGINS SCHOOL 


father had let her try coming to school. 

Lissy was so excited that she could not 
get any more lessons all that morning, and 
forgot the ones she thought she had learned. 
She failed so helplessly in everything and 
was so distressed over each failure that Miss 
Doris only said: “Never mind, Lissy, 
dear. You’ll do better to-morrow 1” and 
wondered for the hundredth time what she 
could do to help the poor child along. 

Marjory proved a surprise to every one, 
even Miss Doris. After the first strange- 
ness wore off, and she began to understand 
what she was expected to do — and that she 
was expected to do it for herself she had 
almost perfect lessons. 

“But I’ve had all that before,” she would 
say in smiling wonder at the wonder of the 
others. “You see, Daddy told me all about 
that.” 


141 


MARJORY; THE CIRCUS GIRL 

She was so far ahead of all Miss Doris’s 
little classes that Miss Doris thought best to 
make a visit to Overbrook, and tell Mr. 
Brook all about it. But Mr. Brook only 
smiled. 

“I’m not sending her to school for what 
books will teach her,” he said, “but for 
what she’ll learn from being with you, Miss 
Dean, and that wonderful child, Melissa 
Maud Penny.” 

“Lissy is wonderful,” said Miss Doris. 
“ If only they could be together for awhile 
your Marjory would be happier and 
stronger in every way.” 

“I know,” said Mr. Brook. “But Lissy’s 
father won’t allow her to come to Over- 
brook even for a short visit.” 

“Why not let Marjory go there?” Miss 
Doris queried. 

“She would have to take care of herself,” 
142 


MARJORY BEGINS SCHOOL 


said Mr. Brook, “and do without many 
comforts. I — ” 

“Just what she needs,” said little Miss 
Doris pluckily. “You just try it and see.” 

So it happened that one day, not long 
after Miss Doris’s visit to Overbrook, when 
Lissy begged Marjory to come and make 
her a visit over Saturday and Sunday, and 
when Marjory begged her father to be al- 
lowed to, just this once, he said she might. 

Friday evening, with Annette, Marjory 
arrived at The Penny Bank. Lissy met 
them with a very sober face. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said, “and it doesn’t 
seem quite polite. But we’ve only just beds 
enough to hold you, Marjory. The front 
rooms are cold this time of year. Aunt 
Melissa doesn’t think any one ought to 
sleep in them, and — ” 

“I’m not to stay,” said Annette quickly. 

143 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

“Mr. Brook says so, Miss Lissy. He says 
Miss Marjory must just do for herself — 
I’m sure I don’t know how she’ll manage.” 

“Oh, I’ll help her,” cried Lissy. And as 
the maid set down Marjory’s suit-case and 
went down the steps, Lissy caught Marjory 
around her waist and danced up and down 
the hall with her. “We’ll have the best 
time ever,” she cried breathlessly. “Aunt 
Melissa is going to take Trixy in with her, 
and you and I will sleep together.” 

It was almost the best time Marjory had 
ever had. Going to bed with another little 
girl in the little room was a new experi- 
ence, as delightful as it was strange. Lissy 
helped with buttons. She helped comb out 
Marjory’s hair, exclaiming at its golden 
fluffiness. 

Getting up, early next morning, scrub- 
bing in cold water, and eating breakfast 
144 


MARJORY BEGINS SCHOOL 


with a tableful of hungry, happy little folks 
was fun, too. 

“I’m going to get up early and eat break- 
fast with Daddy, every single time he’s 
home,” cried Marjory. “Why, it tastes 
ever so much better at this time of day and 
when you’re not all alone.” 

After breakfast everybody was so busy 
Marjory wanted something to do, too. So 
she learned how to wipe dishes while 
Lissy washed them. The dishes done, she 
asked eagerly to help Aunt Melissa roll out 
cookies. She learned things very quickly. 
She worked so hard that she was very hun- 
gry at dinner-time — to Marjory’s surprise 
dinner came in the middle of the day at 
The Penny Bank. In the afternoon she 
and Lissy and the Penny boys went out into 
the meadow and slid down hill on the crust. 

When she came in late in the afternoon 
145 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

Lissy’s father had come. For a minute he 
thought she was Lissy. 

“Your cheeks are so red,” he said, smil- 
ing at the new little girl. “I never saw 
them red before, you know.” 

Marjory ran to a mirror to see how she 
looked with red cheeks. And it was an im- 
provement, she decided. 

Whatever was the reason Father wouldn’t 
let the little Pennys go to Overbrook, 
Lissy knew it wasn’t that he didn’t like 
Marjory. From that very first night, when 
he had carried her to Overbrook, he had 
seemed interested in her. And now he 
seemed pleased to have her in The Penny 
Bank. And Marjory thought Lissy’s fa- 
ther was almost as nice as Daddy. She sat 
down near him by the fire while he read his 
paper. Once in a while he smiled at her 
over the top of the sheet. By and by, he 
146 


MARJORY BEGINS SCHOOL 


laid it down and took her up in his arms, 
and said gently that she was a dear little 
girl and must come to see his little folks 
just as often as she could. 

Marjory went home Sunday night. And 
when she came to school Monday morning 
she was all alone. 

“I want to be as much like Lissy as I 
can,” she said wistfully to Miss Doris. 
“And she does everything for herself and 
almost everything for everybody else. 
Don’t you just love her, Miss Doris?” 

“No one could help loving Lissy,” said 
Miss Doris. 

“I wish I could do something for her,” 
cried Marjory. Perhaps it was the first 
time Marjory had ever even thought that 
she would like to do something for some- 
body beside Marjory Brook. “But Fve 
thought and thought and seems to me there 
147 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

isn’t one single thing Lissy can’t do for her- 
self. Can you think of anything?” 

A sudden happy thought flashed into 
Miss Doris’s little brown head. 

“Oh, yes, dear,” she replied. “If you 
will only help Lissy with her lessons. 
They are so easy for you and so hard for 
her. And she tries so hard. Help her 
every night, Margie!” 

So, as the days grew longer, for a while 
every evening Marjory helped Lissy with 
her lessons. She was so glad to think she 
had found something to do for Lissy. And 
she had the dearest little ways of telling 
things, and made things that had been so 
hard so easy to see and remember that Lissy 
began to have good lessons almost every 
day. In return for the lessons Lissy taught 
Marjory to bake and sew a little and do all 
sorts of useful things — the kind of which 
148 


MARJORY BEGINS SCHOOL 

Lissy’s life had always been full to over- 
flowing. And Marjory, almost always 
busy and happy now, with a bit of life at 
The Penny Bank nearly every day, slowly 
began to seem like a new and different Mar- 
jory. Her eyes grew bright. Sometimes 
they danced and twinkled at you almost as 
gayly as Lissy’s did. 

One day Miss Doris was at Overbrook 
for a little visit with Marjory. Marjory’s 
maid brought one of the little girl’s spring 
gowns to show Miss Doris. It was so 
pretty — white with blue violets scattered 
over it and a black velvet sash. 

“Would you care, Margie,” asked Miss 
Doris, “if I should make one for Lissy like 
it? There’s some rosebud stuff in the old 
chest which would be lovely.” 

“Oh, I’d love it,” cried Marjory, as 
pleased as even Lissy herself would have 
149 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

been. “I’d like Lissy always to have things 
like mine. And there’s plenty more of the 
velvet, and I’ll make the bows — that’s one 
thing I can make better than Lissy.” 

The warm days came early that year. 
One lovely Saturday, which it seemed 
March must have borrowed from April, 
Marjory and Lissy and Miss Doris went 
for a long walk. Both little girls wore 
their new gowns. 

It was hard to tell which one was hap- 
pier. Miss Doris thought it was a pity to 
let so much happiness go by. So, just out- 
side The Penny Bank, she took their pic- 
tures standing side by side. 

The picture turned out to be so good that 
Lissy sent it in a long letter to John. She 
told him how Miss Doris had made the 
gown and taken the picture, and how she 
was the loveliest girl in the world anyhow, 
150 


MARJORY BEGINS SCHOOL 


and how he just must come before the sum- 
mer vacation took her away from Brook- 
side so that they could all have one more 
good time all together. 

John Penny wrote Lissy a long letter and 
told her how much he wanted to come, but 
how he was afraid he couldn’t. And he 
wrote another to Miss Doris herself. It 
was even longer than Lissy’s. When Miss 
Doris had finished reading it she took her 
picture of Lissy and Marjory, standing side 
by side, and looked at it a long, long time. 

“How strange,” she said to herself. 


151 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


CHAPTER XII 

APRIL WEATHER 

B UT Marjory was not the only little 
girl who was happy these days. 
Lissy’s eyes were like stars all the 
time, and she sang and laughed and danced 
through each day almost as happily as 
April in her happiest weather. For, with 
Marjory’s help, she was beginning to have 
perfect marks at school. 

One noon Miss Doris called her to her 
desk, as she was going out, to tell her how 
well she was doing. 

“And Marjory hasn’t helped me a bit for 
almost a week,” cried Lissy. “You see, 
she’s showed me how to study, and now I 
152 


APRIL WEATHER 


can do it all by myself. Oh, how I wish 
I could do something for Marjory.” 

“You’ve taught Marjory just as much as 
she has you, dear,” said Miss Doris. 

“Not big, beautiful things, Miss Doris, 
the kind you find in books.” 

“Maybe not,” said Miss Doris; “but 
you’ve taught her how to be happy and 
busy, and being happy and busy are making 
her well and strong. And health and work 
and happiness are the biggest and best and 
most beautiful things I know of, Lissy.” 

“She’s coming to spend all of the Easter 
vacation at The Penny Bank,” cried Lissy. 
“You’ll come every day, too, won’t you, 
Miss Doris? Aunt Melissa and I are 
thinking up the loveliest things to do, but 
it’ll need you to really do them.” 

Miss Doris was almost as much pleased 
as Lissy at the thought of the good times. 

153 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

You could have the best of times in The 
Penny Bank. Every one who ever went 
there found that out As for Marjory, she 
had a calendar by her bed, and each night 
she marked off one more day, and counted 
anxiously how many were left before the 
Easter vacation would begin. 

Mr. Brook had been away some weeks on 
a business trip. It was when there were 
only three days more to be marked off on 
Marjory’s calendar that a long letter came 
from him to Marjory. The letter said he 
would be back in New York for Easter, 
and that he wanted his little girl to spend 
it with him there in their big, beautiful 
home. He could not be away from the city 
just then, he said, and neither did he want 
to stay there all alone. So he should look 
for her and Mrs. Brown and Annette on the 
day before Easter. He was glad she was 
154 . 


APRIL WEATHER 


so much better and stronger, and he sent his 
love to all the little Pennys — especially to 
Lissy. 

“But of course, I can’t go,” said Marjory, 
as she told Lissy about the letter on their 
way to school. “Because that’s the week 
I’m going to spend in The Penny Bank. 
I’m going to write Daddy so to-night.” 

“Hadn’t you written him about our 
plans?” cried Lissy. 

“I hadn’t written him at all — in ever so 
long. He travels about so, I wasn’t sure a 
letter would find him,” said Marjory, “but 
I’ll write him to-night and send it to New 
York.” 

“Couldn’t he possibly come here — don’t 
you suppose?” said Lissy. 

“Oh, no,” said Marjory importantly. 
“My Daddy’s at the head of so many big 
companies and all sorts of things like that, 
155 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

Lissy. He’ll just have to stay right in the 
city. But, never mind, I’ll just write him 
that I’m going to spend that week with 
you.” 

Lissy looked very sober. 

“But, Margie,” she said soberly, “won’t 
your father be very lonesome?” 

“Yes,” said Marjory. “Daddy hates that 
house since Mother died. He never stays 
there alone, if he can help it. But he can 
go to a hotel or to his club — he often does.” 

Lissy looked still more sober. 

When they were almost at the school- 
house she said : 

“Margie, dear, I think you ought to go to 
your father.” 

“Maybe you do, but I’m not going,” said 
Marjory firmly. 

Both little girls were so sober all day that 
Miss Doris couldn’t fail to notice it. 


156 


APRIL WEATHER 


“What is it?” she cried gayly, as she 
found them waiting for her, one on each 
side of the path, when school was out. 

“Lissy thinks I ought to go to New York 
and stay with Daddy at Easter,” said Mar- 
jory, “instead of coming to The Penny 
Bank as weVe planned. And I don’t want 
to. And I’m not going to.” 

“Her father has written her to,” said 
Lissy. “And if she doesn’t, he’ll be all 
alone in a big, empty house, or hotel or 
somewhere. He needs her, Miss Doris.” 

“Very well,” cried Marjory, with a toss 
of her pretty head, “if you don’t want me, 
Lissy Penny, I can stay at home, I suppose.” 

“Oh, I didn’t mean that— you know I 
didn’t,” cried Lissy, almost in tears. “I’d 
feel just as badly as you if you can’t come. 
But I do think your father needs you most, 
Margie — he hasn’t any one else.” 

157 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

Miss Doris knew that this was a good 
time for her to keep still. But she squeezed 
Lissy’s hand comfortingly as she said good- 
night to them. Marjory didn’t even say 
good-night to Lissy. She went straight up 
the hill toward Overbrook, her head very 
high, in spite of a sudden spatter of April 
rain. 

Poor Lissy watched until Marjory was 
quite out of sight. She wanted so to call to 
her to come back and wait till the rain was 
over. But she didn’t. She wanted to cry 
dreadfully all the evening. But there was 
always so much to do in The Penny Bank 
there wasn’t much time for tears. And 
when she went to bed, though her heart 
ached sadly, she had shed only two or three 
tears before she was sound asleep. 

Marjory went home through the rain. 
After she had slammed three doors, upset a 
158 


APRIL WEATHER 


chair, and scolded poor William Gray for 
getting in the way, she did cry. She not 
only cried; she screamed. She had not 
acted so in a very long time — not since she 
had known Lissy, Mrs. Brown and Annette 
told each other, as they flew about and tried 
to do things for her. She would surely 
make herself ill again. And it was too bad 
— just when she was beginning to be so 
much better. Whatever it was she wanted 
the poor, dear child must have it — and have 
it at once. 

But it turned out to be something Miss 
Marjory didn’t want — not something she 
did want — this time. And when, at last, it 
all came out that she didn’t want to go to 
New York to spend Easter with her father, 
and that she just would not go and that was 
all there was to it, every one was so sur- 
prised they did not know what to do. For 
159 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

Mr. Brook had never before asked for 
Marjory that she had not been eager to go 
to him. 

“It’s those Pennys,” said Annette, quite 
forgetting how she, herself, had always ap- 
proved of the Pennys and what they had 
done for Miss Marjory. 

So Marjory stormed and cried and re- 
fused to eat and did all the things she had 
often done before. And after a while, 
quite tired out, she lay still on her little bed. 
And some new strange thoughts began to 
come into her head. Could it be that Lissy 
was right. Did Daddy need her so much 
that she ought to give up the visit to The 
Penny Bank and go to him instead? It 
would be very hard. Marjory didn’t like 
hard things like that — at least she did not 
think she did. She had never tried many. 
But — Marjory sat up and stared at an 
160 


APRIL WEATHER 


April cloud showing a beautiful silver lin- 
ing in the sunset. 

Everybody loved Lissy. In a dim sort 
of way it came to Marjory just then that 
maybe it was because she always gave up 
things, herself, to make other folks have a 
good time. It was not hard for Lissy to 
give up things — at least it never seemed to 
be. Maybe she had done it so much that 
she sort of could not help doing it almost 
all the time. Marjory wondered awhile 
about this, while the big cloud showed rose 
linings as well as silver ones. Marjory de- 
cided quite suddenly that she would begin 
giving up things, too, — only she would be- 
gin with something easier than this visit. 
Then she remembered how cross she had 
been to Lissy. She wondered if Lissy 
would stop loving her? No, she was quite 
sure Lissy would not do that — Lissy could 
161 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

not help loving people. It was the way she 
was made. Marjory wished she was made 
that way. She wished she liked to do hard 
things. Maybe, if she began with a very 
hard thing — 

Marjory jumped from the bed. She 
went to the window and looked out at the 
cloud, which was not much of a cloud 
any more. The sun was laughing right 
through it, and saying, “Good Night!” 
Marjory didn’t even wait to see him go. 
She had made up her mind. She would do 
a hard thing — a very hard thing— the hard- 
est thing she had ever done, of her own will, 
in her life. She went over to the beautiful 
little desk, which stood in one corner of the 
beautiful room. She turned on the pretty 
electric light. She took out her paper with 
the graceful M. F. B. engraved on it. She 
took her own little gold pen. All by her- 
162 


APRIL WEATHER 


self, after spoiling two sheets with big tear 
blots, she wrote one of her own dear little 
letters — the kind Daddy loved to get: 

“Dear Daddy,” said the shining pen- 
point, 

“Of course I will come to spend Easter 
with you in New York. It will be lovely 
to see you again. And we will have the 
best time we can — you and I, Daddy-dear. 

“Your very own, 

“Marjorie-girl.” 

Maybe the note sounds easy to write, but 
it was not. To begin with, with all Mar- 
jory’s faults, she always meant to tell the 
truth about things. And she did not want 
Daddy to know how much she did not want 
to come. She wanted him to think she 
came gladly as she always had. 

“By the time it’s time maybe I will be 
glad,” she said to herself. “Anyhow, I 
can’t do any better with it.” 

163 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

Marjory sent Thomas way down to 
Brookside post-office that very night to mail 
her letter. 

And when she looked out of her window, 
on the way to bed, there wasn’t a cloud any- 
where — just soft skies and twinkling stars 
everywhere. 

Next morning, when Lissy looked anx- 
iously up the hill toward Overbrook, she 
saw a little figure in white flying toward 
her. Lissy waited. 

“I’m going to New York,” cried Mar- 
jory, “Saturday morning, Lissy. I’ve 
written Daddy. So you and Miss Doris 
will have to have all your good times with- 
out me.” 

“We won’t have the good times without 
you,” cried Lissy. “We’ll just save them 
till June — they’ll keep, Marjory. Then 
you can be in them, too. Oh, I’m so 
164 


APRIL WEATHER 


sorry you’re going and so glad, both to- 
gether.” 

Marjory stood in the road and stared at 
Lissy. 

“Why, so am I,” she said. “But I’m all 
sorry that I said cross things yesterday, 
Lissy.” 

“You couldn’t help it,” said Lissy. “No- 
body could. I was so cross to poor Patrick 
White last night that I had to ask his par- 
don this morning.” 

Of course Miss Doris heard all about 
things as soon as Marjory and Lissy reached 
the schoolhouse. And she gave Marjory 
the very kind of kiss she always give Lissy. 

“You’re a plucky little girl, Margie- 
dear,” she said. “And I’m proud of you!” 


165 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


CHAPTER XIII 

A LOST PENNY 

N EXT morning, when Lissy saw 
Marjory, she ran up the hill to 
meet her. For Marjory was 
flying her hands and crying something that 
even before you could hear any words, you 
knew was delightful. 

“Oh, what do you think, Lissy Penny?” 
she cried. “What do you think? The 
very loveliest thing in the world has hap- 
pened. When Daddy got my letter saying 
I would come, what do you think he did?” 

“I — don’t — know,” cried Lissy breath- 
lessly. 

“He called me right up on the long dis- 
tance telephone,” went on Marjory. “I 
166 



















































* 













































f 





























































A LOST PENNY 


talked with him myself. And he said — 
Melissa Maud Penny — he said I was to 
bring you to New York with me for a whole 
week. Now, what do you think?” 

“Me — to New York?” gasped Lissy. 
She sank down in a little heap on the grass. 
“Why, a little Penny couldn’t go to New 
Y ork — really — M argie !” 

“Yes — it could,” said Marjory impres- 
sively. “When my Daddy says so. He’s 
written your father — and all. We’re to go 
this very Friday night — you and Mrs. 
Brown and Annette and Thomas and I.” 

“But I don’t dare hope too hard,” said 
Lissy when the wonderful news was told 
Miss Doris. “Not till I’ve asked Father. 
He may say ‘No’ so hard, I can’t go.” 

What Mr. Brook wrote Father, Lissy 
didn’t know. What Aunt Melissa said to 
him, she didn’t know. Really, though, it 
167 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


was neither Mr. Brook’s letter nor Aunt 
Melissa’s words that decided him to say 
“Yes.” It was his little daughter’s eager 
face, her beseeching gray eyes, and her 
voice, which didn’t often ask things for her- 
self, saying, “Won’t you please let me go, 
Father, just this once?” 

Lissy wondered then, though she under- 
stood later, why Father took her up into his 
arms and held her closely while he said, 
“Yes, little daughter, go this time. Have 
a good time every minute — just as good a 
time as you always help us all to have. But 
— you will come back and be happy again 
in The Penny Bank, won’t you?” 

“Why, of course, Father,” cried Lissy, 
hugging him as hard as she could. “You 
can’t have as good times anywhere as you 
can in The Penny Bank!” 

Miss Doris was glad she had made so 
168 


A LOST PENNY 


many pretty things for Lissy to wear. 
There were some little new wash dresses 
made from materials John had sent espe- 
cially for Lissy. There was a little coat 
and skirt suit which made her look quite 
grown up. And there was a real little silk 
gown of dull rose-color in which she looked 
quite as pretty as Marjory herself. And 
the little girls’ clothes were all packed to- 
gether in a trunk of Marjory’s. 

It was almost dark when they started. 
Lissy kissed every one several times over. 
There was a minute when she was almost 
ready to cry to think they weren’t every one 
going. She begged Miss Doris to stay 
right at The Penny Bank until she came 
back herself. And Miss Doris promised 
she would and said she would help look 
after Pet and Trixy and feed Patrick 
White. 


169 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


Not long after, Lissy found herself on a 
big train which rushed away with them 
through the soft warm spring darkness. 
She and Marjory were put to bed in the 
dearest little beds, something like shelves, 
Lissy thought. Through the window, Lissy 
could see a big bright star that twinkled and 
twinkled. She smiled at it, and said her 
prayers over twice, and went to sleep. 

The next minute — or so it seemed to Lissy 
— the sun was looking at her over a broad 
blue river, and Mrs. Brown was calling to 
her to get up. When they were dressed, the 
train rolled into a big strange place, and 
they hurried through a beautiful station 
and were put into a beautiful car and went 
through crowds of people and carriages and 
cars, and turned at last into a broad beau- 
tiful street where there was a park, and 
where the houses were all like palaces. Be- 
170 


A LOST PENNY 


fore one of the biggest of these they 
stopped. 

Marjory’s father took Marjory into his 
arms. Before Lissy could even feel strange 
he found room for her, too. 

They all went into a wonderful house 
where their feet made no sound on the thick, 
soft carpets and rugs. Servants waited 
everywhere to do everything for them. 
The rooms they went through and the ones 
they caught glimpses of were too beautiful 
to be really true. And by and by in one of 
the most beautiful, at a beautiful table, all 
flowers and fruit and tinted china and 
sparkling glass and silver, they ate a won- 
derful meal, called breakfast. 

The days that followed came and went 
like dreams to Lissy. They went through 
wonderful stores where you could buy any- 
thing, it seemed, and where Mr. Brook did 
171 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


buy all sorts of things for both little girls. 
They took long walks and drives all over 
the city, through crowded streets and beau- 
tiful parks like fairyland. They went to a 
children’s play, which Lissy thought was 
too lovely for any common words to even try 
to tell about. They went for rides on the 
river, sometimes coming back at sunset, 
sometimes by moonight. There was no end 
to the wonderful things they saw and heard 
and did. And always, most wonderful of 
all, it seemed to Lissy, was coming back to 
the great, beautiful palace of a home, with 
its books and pictures and mirrors and fur- 
niture and lights, and colors, its glass-house 
full of flowers, its music-room in which 
Marjory played a little on the grand piano, 
and Mr. Brook a great deal. 

Then there was Lissy’s own room, all in 
soft rose-color, with Marjory’s, all in dull 
172 


A LOST PENNY 

blue and white, opening from it. Oh, 
Lissy was sure there was never, never any 
other home quite so big and wonderful as 
this one of Marjory’s. 

Coming home from a last visit to the 
shops to buy things for the little Pennys — 
and the big ones, too — and Miss Doris, 
Mr. Brook was stopped by a man in a car 
who said Mr. Brook was needed for some- 
thing very important away back down town. 

Mr. Brook looked troubled. 

“Could you and Lissy go home alone?” 
he said. “You go to the next corner and 
turn, and there you are, you know.” 

“Oh, Daddy,” cried Marjory, “of course 
we can. You always seem to think I’m a 
baby, yet. Why, I’m eleven years old.” 

Mr. Brook smiled. Marjory seemed, at 
times, to have forgotten her life with the 
Gypsy Troupe. But he had not. 

173 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

“Hold fast to Lissy,” he said. 

Then he got into the car with the man 
and away they went down town. 

“He’ll be gone ever so long,” said Mar- 
jory, as they reached the house in safety. 
“We may even have to go to bed without 
seeing him. I know that man — and he al- 
ways keeps Daddy. It’s too lovely to go 
in, yet. I’ll get Annette, and then we’ll go 
over and sit in the park.” 

“I’ll wait here,” cried Lissy. 

She sat down on the lowest step. She 
was so happy thinking over the presents for 
the Pennys that she did not notice a man 
who stood near watching her. She did not 
see him as he came up. 

“Your father wants you to come to him 
at once,” said the man. “He’s met with a 
bad accident. He told me I’d find you 
here.” 


174 


A LOST PENNY 


Lissy had just been thinking of father. 
She started up in alarm. Packages fell all 
about her unheeded. 

“Father?” she cried. “An accident? 
Oh, let me just tell somebody — then I’ll 
go.” 

“Can’t stop a minute if we catch the next 
car,” said the man. 

Already he was hurrying Lissy down the 
street. In another minute they had turned 
the corner and she was hurried aboard a 
crowded car. At first Lissy was so fright- 
ened about Father she could not think of 
anything else. She only knew that the car 
carried her on and on through crowded 
streets. By and by, the man stopped the 
car, helped her off, and began walking 
briskly along. 

Lissy’s brain began" to ask her the ques- 
tion it should have asked her at the first 
175 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

minute. “Why had Father sent this stran- 
ger for her?” She looked at him curiously. 
He wasn’t the kind of man Father was — he 
didn’t look like a friend of Father’s. Lissy 
looked at the street — its buildings were not 
like those she had seen while in the city. 

“Is this the way to the station?” she said 
suddenly. 

“Your father was hurt in his car,” said 
the man. 

Lissy stopped so short the man had to 
stop, too. 

“My father hasn’t any car,” she said. 
“He doesn’t live in this city at all.” 

The man laughed disagreeably. But he 
hurried her along. Lissy, quite breathess, 
was guided around a street-corner straight 
into the arms of a large woman who seemed 
to be waiting for her. 

“Here we are, Sue,” said the man. 

176 


A LOST PENNY 

“My, but you’ve grown, dearie,” cried 
the woman. Then she stared down into 
Lissy’s white, frightened face. Her own 
face fell. 

“This is the wrong child, Dick,” she said. 
“She isn’t the little girl we had before.” 

“Looks like her to me,” said Dick sul- 
lenly. 

“A little — maybe,” said the woman, look- 
ing Lissy over carefully. “But she’s not 
the child. And the little Brook girl has no 
sister. We’ve looked up that family — Hal 
and I — since we lost the other little girl and 
the reward. This child isn’t a Brook. 
She’s too poorly dressed.” 

“Picked her up at the Brook house,” 
grumbled the man. “But there’s nothing 
to do now, anyhow, Sue, but let her go 
again. You’ve told all you know. And 
that child has heard every word.” 

177 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


“A child doesn’t notice,” said the woman. 
“If you found her at the Brook house, 
maybe Mr. Brook would offer a reward for 
her.” 

“No, he wouldn’t,” cried Lissy suddenly. 
“ ’Cause I don’t belong to him at all. But, 
if he did, I wouldn’t let him pay it. I’d 
tell him you were the same people who had 
Marjory once. And how you’d tried to 
take her again — just to make him pay. 
You said so yourself. You’d better let me 
go.” 

The man and the woman looked at each 
other. Then they talked in low voices. 
Lissy could not understand them. After 
awhile the woman took Lissy by the hand 
and walked with her in silence for a long 
distance. By and by, they took a car and 
rode for a longer time than they had walked. 
When the car stopped in the midst of a 
178 


A LOST PENNY 

crowd the woman helped Lissy off. But, 
next minute, when Lissy looked around for 
her, she was nowhere to be seen. Lissy felt 
more alone in the midst of that hurrying, 
jostling city crowd, than she had ever felt 
in the woods at home. 

“Well,” she said to herself, “they’ve let 
me go, anyway. Now, all I’ve got to do is 
to get back home. Where will I begin?” 

Just here the crowd threw Lissy into the 
arms of a stout policeman. When she told 
him where she wanted to go, he said: 

"The Mr. Brook’s?” 

“Yes,” said Lissy. She decided Mar- 
jory’s father must be known everywhere. 

The policeman put Lissy aboard a car, 
spoke to the conductor about her, and away 
she went. She thought, sometimes, she 
would never come to the end of that ride. 
But, after awhile, she saw a friendly look- 
179 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

ing street, then another and another. Then 
the car stopped and the conductor put her 
off. 

“Right around that next corner,” he said, 
pointing up the street. 


180 


IT RETURNS 


CHAPTER XIV 

IT RETURNS 

W HEN Lissy turned the corner, 
she looked up eagerly, expect- 
ing to see the big Brook house 
just ahead of her. There it was, a-twinkle 
with lights from roof to sidewalk. But 
somehow, to Lissy, it seemed that it had 
crossed the street since she saw it last. 
Maybe, though, she had crossed the street. 
As that seemed more natural, she crossed 
it again, dashed up the steps to the house, 
rang the bell, and waited, quite breathless 
with her strange adventure. No one 
seemed to be looking for her, or at all dis- 
turbed because she had gone. Could it be 
that no one had missed her yet? 

181 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


The next minute she heard a rush of feet 
down the stairs and a chorus of voices talk- 
ing and laughing. Then the door flew 
open. 

“We couldn’t wait for Smith,” cried a 
voice. “So, we just came, ourselves. 
Why, it isn’t Joe, after all!” 

A girl with a funny little face and bright, 
eager eyes, pushed a lock of dull brown 
hair out of them, and stared, bewildered, 
at Lissy. Back of this girl, there were 
other children — Lissy didn’t know how 
many. 

“Why, it’s Lissy from The Penny Bank,” 
cried the girl, as if she couldn’t quite be- 
lieve her eyes. “Don’t you know me? 
I’m Nancy Spindle. And I’m more sur- 
prised to see you than you were that rainy 
night to see me. But I’m glad as I can be 
' — do come in.” 


182 


IT RETURNS 

She drew Lissy, trying to explain, into 
the big beautiful hall. It was fragrant 
with flowers. Softly shaded lights like 
great flowers, themselves, in shape and 
color, burned here and there, although it 
was not yet quite dark out-of-doors. 

“Here are my Marties — both of them,” 
cried Nancy Spindle. She brought Lissy 
to a standstill before a red-headed little 
girl, plump and pink-cheeked. Close be- 
side her was a slim, dark-eyed, serious boy, 
who smiled shyly at her, holding out his 
hand. “And here comes Betty — Joe’s 
Betty, you know. We’re all here visiting 
her — isn’t it lovely? Joe’s coming to-night 
for his Easter vacation. We thought you 
were Joe, you know — that’s why we all 
came rushing to meet you.” 

While Nancy rattled on, the prettiest 
little girl Lissy had ever seen came down 
183 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


the last steps of the long flight of stairs. 
She smiled and held out both her hands. 

“You’re just in time for my party,” she 
said gayly. “Do come upstairs and take 
off your wraps. And meet Mother — 
Nancy’s told her about you and your quaint 
old home, and the babies and the cats, and 
all. Do come.” 

“But I can’t,” cried Lissy. “I’m lost — 
or something. I don’t feel quite lost with 
you all, but — I meant to go to Mr. Brook’s 
house, you see. How did I get here?” 

“You turned the wrong corner,” laughed 
Betty. “Many people do that. This is the 
Blake house— my Father’s, you know. 
Mr. Brook lives just a little way from here 
on the other side of the street. It’s only a 
step. Joe will take you when you want to 
go. But you must stay for my party.” 

“Oh, no,” cried Lissy, in spite of four 
184 


IT RETURNS 


eager faces all asking her to stay. “You see, 
I’m more lost than that.” 

But just here the door-bell pealed again, 
and in came Joe with the big brown and 
white dog which Lissy remembered. 
Every one began to talk, and it was some 
time before Lissy could make them hear 
her again. 

“Oh, please, Joe, or some of you, do listen 
to me just a minute,” she cried at last so 
wildly that every one stopped talking to 
look at her. “I must get back to Mr. 
Brook’s house just as soon as I can. You 
see, a man took me away from there this 
afternoon, and he meant to take Marjory. 
It was the same one who took her, the other 
time. They said so. Oh, please, some 
one, take me back home, so I can tell them 
all about it.” 

“Joe will, of course,” said Betty. “Oh, 
185 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

dear, we ought to have let you go at once. 
But never mind — it will be all right just as 
soon as you do get there. And, Lissy, come 
back to the party — you and Marjory Brook. 
Father knows Mr. Brook, and Nancy Spin- 
dle knows Marjory, and the rest of us 
want to. Bring them both back with you, 
Joe.” 

Joe and Lissy, with the big dog on a 
leash, crossed the street in front of the 
Blake house, went back to the street where 
Lissy had left the car, and, instead of turn- 
ing to the east as she had done, turned to the 
west, and, there, just where it belonged, 
stood the Brook house. It looked for all 
the world like the twin of the Blake house. 

In front of it, was a red car. Mr. Brook 
was just getting out. Marjory, bare- 
headed, was clinging to him, talking excit- 
edly. Holding fast to Marjory’s dress, was 
186 



yy 


“ mr, brook was tust getting out 




IT RETURNS 

Annette. And on the steps, pale and 
frightened, was Mrs. Brown. 

“He took Lissy away with him,” Mar- 
jory’s shrill little voice was saying. “It 
was that Dick-man. I’d know him any- 
where, Daddy. I saw him just as they 
went around the corner. And he slouched 
along, just like Dick. And I ran and An- 
nette ran. But they had taken a car when 
we reached the corner, and we couldn’t tell 
which one. And no one knew what to do. 
We’ve ’phoned everywhere for you, but we 
couldn’t find you. And Thomas started 
after them. Oh, Daddy, do hurry and find 
Lissy.” 

“I’m found,” cried Lissy. She and Joe 
and Fritz all arrived at the steps of the 
Brooks’ house, a breathless trio, but all try- 
ing to talk or bark, o’* do something which 
took still more breath. Somehow, they all 
187 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

got into the house. Mr. Brook, grave and 
stern, held fast to Lissy and Marjory, too. 
As soon as she could, Lissy slid a comforting 
little hand into his. 

“Please don’t look so,” she begged. 
“They’ll never, never dare try that again. 
They know I know all about them — and 
how they took Marjory before for money 
and everything. They knew I understood 
every word they said and everything they 
meant. I said I did and they had better be 
careful. They hurried me back as fast as 
ever they could.” 

“But if anything had happened to you, 
Lissy,” cried Mr. Brook, “what should I 
have said to your father?” 

“But there didn’t — there didn’t,” said 
Lissy. “And, don’t you see, Mr. Brook, 
how much better it was that they took me 
instead of Margie? They’d never have let 
188 


IT RETURNS 

Margie go again without a big reward. 
That’s what they meant to have before, and 
they fooled themselves. But just think, 
Margie,” she added, “that silly Dick man 
never saw any difference between Marjory 
Brook and Melissa Maud Penny. Did you 
ever hear of anything so funny?” 

“I don’t wonder,” said Joe. “You do 
look alike. How’s Billy, Marjory?” 

“Billy?” cried Marjory, letting go of 
Lissy to stare at Joe. 

“Maybe you don’t remember me,” 
laughed Joe. “But don’t you remember 
Fritz and how he took Billy — basket and 
all — and I brought him back, and we trav- 
eled together?” 

“Oh, oh, Daddy,” cried Marjory. “This 
is the nice, red-cheeked boy — the one I told 
you about. Isn’t he nice?” 

Joe’s nice red cheeks grew redder, as Mr. 

189 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


Brook came to him, and put both hands on 
his shoulders. 

“So it was you who was so good to my 
little daughter,” he said. “I don’t know 
what she would ever have done if it hadn’t 
been for you. Somehow, Joe, your family 
and mine seem meant to know each other. 
Of course I do know your father a little. 
And every one knows something about that 
wonderful little mother of yours. Then, 
there’s Nancy Spindle — we know her.” 

Joe laughed. 

“Let’s all get better acquainted,” he said. 
“Betty has invited Lissy and Marjory to her 
party to-night. And as it’s part mine, I’ll 
invite you, Mr. Brook. Mother’s there, 
and, as a great treat, Father’s going to be 
home, too. Do come — all of you.” 

Later, when Marjory and Lissy were all 
ready for the party, Marjory came slowly 
190 


IT RETURNS 

toward Lissy, her eyes big and bright with 
wonder. 

“Lissy Penny, come here, quick,” she 
cried. She pulled Lissy to a long mirror 
near by. “Daddy,” she said the next min- 
ute, “we do, we do! Lissy and I do look 
alike, don’t we?” 

Mr. Brook smiled over their heads at the 
two eager little faces in the mirror. 

“Come to take a good look at you,” he 
said, “I almost believe you do!” 


191 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


CHAPTER XV 

A DIME FOR THE PENNY BANK 

A LMOST the last minute before 
starting for home, Lissy found 
that she and Marjory and Mrs. 
Brown were to go home with Mr. Brook in 
the car, instead of by train. Lissy was so 
delighted that she hopped about like a dis- 
tracted little bluebird. 

“Oh, it’s just the loveliest thing that ever 
happened!” she cried. “Isn’t it, Margie?” 

“Not quite,” said Marjory. She stopped 
in a gay little dance of her own, and clapped 
her hands over her mouth. “The very 
loveliest thing that ever happened will hap- 
pen to-morrow. But I’ve promised and 
promised I won’t tell.” 

192 


A DIME FOR THE PENNY BANK 


Lissy couldn’t even imagine anything 
lovelier than that ride at all likely to hap- 
pen to her. She enjoyed every inch of it. 
She enjoyed luncheon at a big hotel in a 
big city, supper in a small one in a dear 
little country town, the long ride in the 
moonlight afterward, and the night in an- 
other great city. Best of all, maybe, she 
enjoyed starting off again in the early morn- 
ing, when the dew shone on everything, and 
birds sang, and flowers opened bright eyes 
to the sun. 

Best of all? No, the very best of all was 
when the car swept up to The Penny Bank, 
and Father lifted her down, and kissed her 
again and again, and said how he had 
missed her every minute, and was so glad 
she was back home again. Then Aunt Me- 
lissa and Miss Doris and Bob and Bert and 
Pet and Trixy and Patrick White all clus- 
193 


MA RJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

tered around, and every one talked and 
asked questions and Lissy tried to answer, 
but kept saying over and over again, 

“Oh, I’m so glad I went, and I’m so glad 
I’m back!” 

Marjory begged to stay to supper and her 
father said she might and he would come 
back after her in the evening. 

“Then we’ll talk it over, Penny,” Lissy 
heard him say to Father. 

“It shall be just as she says, Brook,” 
Father answered gravely. “I’ve decided 
that.” His eyes, as he looked at Lissy, were 
so sad and yet so loving that she slipped 
away from all the clinging little hands, flew 
to him, put her arms up around him, and 
pulled him down for a kiss. 

With every one undoing presents, and 
wondering how Lissy had known just what 
to get for each one, supper somehow got 
194 


A DIME FOR THE PENNY BANK 

eaten. Lissy said she must wash dishes to 
feel she was really back home again. So 
she slipped into a little old muslin gown 
and went to work. And Marjory slipped 
into another, which Lissy had outgrown, 
took the dish-towel away from Miss Doris, 
and went to work, too. So, everything was 
done and in order in The Penny Bank, and 
all the Pennys, big and little, were out 
under the trees, when Mr. Brook came into 
the yard. Just as every one was ready to 
listen to what he wanted to tell them, a gay, 
brisk step was heard, a gay, brisk whistle 
keeping it company, and into the yard came 
John Penny. 

“Thought I’d surprise you,” he said to 
the delighted little Pennys, who clung to 
him. He smiled at Miss Doris, and she 
smiled back. Lissy didn’t think she looked 
surprised, although she did look pleased. 

195 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

“I’m glad you’ve come, John Penny,” 
said Mr. Brook. “First, there’s a position 
ready for you in New York as soon as you 
can take it. And — I may want your help 
in another matter.” 

“Just a minute, Brook,” said Father qui- 
etly. “The other matter is to be decided 
just as Lissy says. No one must influence 
her at all.” 

Lissy looked up, her eyes full of ques- 
tions. Father looked so old and tired and 
sad. She crossed over to him and sat down. 
She slipped one hand into his and held on 
tight. 

“What must I decide?” she said. 

“Mr. Brook is waiting to tell you, dear,” 
said Father. He squeezed the bit of a 
hand in both his. 

Then Lissy saw that every one was sitting 
still and looking straight at her. Marjory’s 
196 


A DIME FOR THE PENNY BANK 


face fairly shone. And Mr. Brook’s eyes 
smiled into hers. 

“Marjory and I have talked many times,” 
he said quietly, “about how big and empty 
our homes are for one little girl all by her- 
self. I am away so much. But, until 
awhile ago, Margie didn’t want to give up 
anything to any other little girl or boy — ” 

“But I do, now,” said Marjory, her 
cheeks red. “That was before Lissy 
showed me how lovely it is to share things.” 
She smiled at Lissy. And Lissy smiled 
back. 

“So, when I found that Marjory was 
ready,” went on Mr. Brook “all there was 
left was to decide just what little girl or boy 
we should take. We decided on a little 
girl, Lissy. She will be my own little 
daughter and Margie’s own little sister. 
She shall share everything with Marjory — 
197 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


have all the chances she has. She shall go 
to the best schools, and by and by to college. 
She shall travel at home and abroad. In 
short, Lissy, she shall be just as much my 
own little girl as Marjory is.” Mr. Brook 
paused. 

“And you want me to decide,” cried 
Lissy. “Oh, how perfectly lovely.” She 
beamed at everybody. “Now, let’s think — 
what little girl is there? Is Nancy Spindle 
too old?” 

“Just a minute, Lissy,” said Mr. Brook. 
“We’ve decided on the little girl. What 
we want to know is, if the little girl will 
come to us?” 

“Oh, Lissy, Lissy, dear,” cried Marjory, 
“what other little girl could Daddy and I 
want than you? It’s you, of course, — you, 
you, you! You’re to live with us always, 
and go everywhere I do, and have every- 
198 


A DIME FOR THE PENNY BANK 


thing I have — just as good times as we’ve 
had this week, Lissy, all the time — think of 
that. You’ll be my very own sister — Lissy 
Brook. Isn’t that the loveliest thing? 
Didn’t I tell you?” 

Lissy stood up. She looked in a bewil- 
dered way from one to another of the little 
group — Mr. Brook, smiling at her; Mar- 
jory, only kept from running to her by his 
restraining hand; Aunt Melissa, Miss 
Doris, John, all watching her eagerly; and 
the little Pennys clustered together and 
staring at her as if already she didn’t belong 
to them; the old Penny Bank, with its vine- 
hidden porch, its wide-open door, and the 
sunset light on its windows. She turned 
suddenly and threw herself into Father’s 
arms. 

“Oh, I can’t — I can’t,” she cried. 
“What makes you ask me to, Father?” 

199 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

“It shall be just as you say, Lissy,” said 
Father. “But before you decide, think 
what a good father Mr. Brook will make 
you — a much better father than I, my dear. 
You will have all the things you want and 
ought to have.” 

“But, Father,” cried Lissy wildly, cling- 
ing to his hand, “if I did have all those 
things, and Margie, and Margie’s father, I 
wouldn’t have you — and John — and the lit- 
tle Pennys — and Aunt Melissa — and The 
Penny Bank!” 

“You shall come here as much and as 
often as you like, Lissy,” said Mr. Brook, 
quite as if the whole matter was really de- 
cided. 

“Oh, but it wouldn’t be home,” wailed 
Lissy. “Oh, I can’t, Father, unless you 
make me, I can’t! You don’t want me to, 
do you, Father?” 


200 


A DIME FOR THE PENNY BANK 

“It must be just as you say, Lissy,” said 
Father. “But for your sake, I think you 
would better!” 

“I don’t care,” cried Lissy. Her cheeks 
flamed red. “I can’t leave you, Father, 
and I won’t! Oh, dear Mr. Brook and 
Margie, I do thank you — indeed I do! 
And your home is quite the most beautiful 
place in all the world. I love it — and I 
love you. But I can’t leave Father and the 
Pennys and The Penny Bank! You see 
how it is — don’t you? They need me so 
much more than you do. And I couldn’t 
get along without them. But I’ll come to 
see you often — I’m sure Father will let me 
now.” 

Lissy’s father drew her close to him. 

“I’m willing to own,” he said, throwing 
back his handsome head in just the way 
Lissy liked best, “that I haven’t made the 
201 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


best of my life. I’ve been discouraged, I 
suppose. And, Brook, I’ve been more or 
less envious of you — we started in about 
even, you know. You’ve had things I 
wanted. When you came here, knowing 
the past, I was afraid you would want some- 
thing more of mine — and get it. You al- 
most always get the things you want. I 
would not let my children go to you — for 
that reason — and another, which you know. 
But I’ve decided that with children like 
mine there’s nothing that should really dis- 
courage a man. I’m going to make good, 
yet — I’m not an old man — you’ll see!” 

Of course the little folks did not under- 
stand all this long speech of Father’s. But 
they did know that he was oh, so glad and 
proud that Lissy had decided to stay with 
him. 

Mr. Brook went across the space between 
202 


A DIME FOR THE PENNY BANK 


them. He held out his hand to Father. 

“There’s a position in New York open to 
you, too, Penny,” he said. “It’s just the 
place for you. And now that I come here 
so often in my car, think how near you’d be 
to The Penny Bank. Better consider it.” 

“I’ll accept it,” said Father. 

Then Marjory’s father kissed Lissy. He 
said he couldn’t help being proud of her, 
and wanting her more than ever. And 
after awhile Marjory smiled through the 
tears that would come, just at first, and she 
and Lissy put their arms around each other 
and kissed each other and found they were 
not so very unhappy after all. 

It was as they stood, side by side, in 
Lissy’s old worn-out muslin gowns, that 
Aunt Melissa spoke. 

“What I’d like to have some one tell me 
is,” she said, “why you don’t tell them all 
203 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


about it, and be done with it. They’re 
alike as two peas in a pod, now, and the 
older they grow the more they’ll show it.” 

“That’s what I say,” cried John Penny. 
“Why not tell them, Father?” 

“That is as Brook says,” said Father. 

“Margie,” said Mr. Brook. “I never 
meant to tell you this, but it is fairer to 
you, perhaps, to do so. When you came 
to Overbrook I would never have dared 
tell you, but — well, Margie-girl, you’ve 
changed since then. You are my little 
adopted girl, dear. Just as dear to me, al- 
ways, as if you were my very own. We 
took you — my wife and I — when you were 
only a few weeks old, and we cared for you 
as if you had been our own baby, who had 
just died. No little baby was ever more 
welcome, or more loved; no little daughter 
in all the world means more to her father. 

204 


A DIME FOR THE PENNY BANK 


But you are — well, Marjory Brook, who do 
you suppose you are? Maybe, after all, 
you will think it a very happy thing.” 

“Who am I, Daddy, dear?” cred Mar- 
jory. She looked about her wonderingly. 
“You don’t mean — you can’t mean — but we 
do look alike; every one says so — oh, are 
we sisters — really truly sisters — Lissy and 
I?” 

“Really truly sisters,” said Mr. Brook. 
“Lissy’s father is your father, dear. Your 
mother — and, Lissy’s and John’s — died 
when you came. So, you see, your father 
had, beside you, two little children, and 
Lissy was only two years old. He didn’t 
know what to do. He couldn’t bear to give 
you up. He loved you just as all fathers 
love their babies. But he couldn’t take 
care of three children — and one of them a 
helpless baby. And then, too, my wife and 
205 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 


I did want you so. So, after a long time, 
your father gave you to me. I made him 
promise that you were never to know that 
you were not my child, and you were never 
to have anything to do with his family un- 
less I gave my permission. We both lived 
far away from here then. But soon after, 
your father came here. When I came, last 
fall, of course Lissy’s father knew me and 
that you were his own little girl. But, true 
to his word, he wouldn’t let his children 
come to you, not even when I wanted them 
very much myself. Well, you know the 
rest. We couldn’t keep you apart. I was 
soon glad we couldn’t. For I saw that 
Lissy and the Pennys and The Penny Bank 
and all you found here did more for you 
than all your money, dear. They’ve made 
you well and busy and happy and unselfish 
— just the little daughter I wanted to make 
206 


A DIME FOR THE PENNY BANK 


you, but didn’t know how. Well, now, 
what do you think about it all?” 

Marjory was in her father’s arms. 

“I’m so glad I can’t be a bit sorry,” she 
cried. “And just think, Daddy, dear, I’ve 
two fathers all my very own. She held out 
her bit of a hand to Lissy’s father. “You’re 
my father just as much as you are Lissy’s. 
And, Lissy, you’re my sister, even if you did 
decide not to be. You can’t help yourself. 
And all your brothers and sisters — John 
and all — are mine, too — why, I’m a little 
Penny myself !” 

After that, every one talked. Ever so 
many things came out. Of course John 
Penny had known all about it from the first, 
and Aunt Melissa. And John had told 
Miss Doris in the long letter after Lissy had 
sent him the photo of herself and Marjory. 
And Lissy was more than ever sure that 
207 


MARJORY: THE CIRCUS GIRL 

Marjory was like a story-book girl, or the 
“See-Saw Marjory” in the Mother Goose 
Rhymes. 

Somehow, Father didn’t look old any 
more — not one bit older than Mr. Brook. 
And everybody was so glad and excited that 
the moon came and looked down on them 
before any one knew it was time. 

“Oh,” cried Lissy suddenly, “just listen, 
everybody, — we aren’t the five little Pennys 
any more. Marjory makes six — we’re the 
six little Pennys!” 

“And if we count in Papa Penny,” cried 
Marjory, trying the new name she had se- 
lected for Lissy’s father, “and brother John 
Penny, we’d have eight Pennys, big and 
little!” 

“Oh, and Aunt Melissa — she’s a big 
Penny,” laughed Lissy. “That makes nine 
Pennys — now, if we only had one more!” 

208 


A DIME FOR THE PENNY BANK 


“I wish Miss Doris was a Penny,” said 
Marjory. “Couldn’t she be, somehow? 
Couldn’t you, Miss Doris?” 

Miss Doris’s cheeks showed red even in 
the moonlight. 

“I’ve just asked her, little sister Margie,” 
said John Penny. “And — I think she will 
be!” 

“Oh, oh,” screamed Lissy. “There’ll be 
ten Pennys — a whole dime for The Penny 
Bank, Margie!” 


THE END 


209 









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